THE 



SPEECHES 



OF 



CHARLES PHILLIPS, ESQ. 

DELIVERED AT THE BAR, 



AND Off 



VARIOUS PUBLIC OCCASIONS, 



IRELAND AND ENGLAND. 



EDITED BY HIMSELF. 



FOURTH AMERICAN EDITION 



PHILADELPHIA s 

PUBLISHED BY EDWARD EARLE. 

Schaeffer & Maund, Printers, Baltimore, 



1818, 



3w 






THE 

FOLLOWING SPEECHES 

ARE, BY PERMISSION", 
DEDICATED TO 

WILLIAM ROSCOE, 

WITH 
THE MOST SINCERE RESPECT, 
AND AFFECTION 

OF THEIR 

AUTHOR. 



PREFACE. 

(BY JOHN FINLAY, ESQ.) 

THE Speeches of Phillips are now, for 
the first time, offered to the world in an 
authentic form. So far as his exertions have 
heen hitherto developed, his admirers, and 
they are innumerable, must admit, that the 
text of this volume is an acknowledged 
reference, to which future criticism may 
fairly resort, and from which his friends 
must deduce any title which the speaker 
may have created to the character of an 
orator. 

The interests of his reputation impose 
no necessity of denying many Vf, those im 
perfections which have been imputed to 
these productions. The value of all* hu- 
man exertion is comparative ; and positive 
excellence is but a flattering designation, 
even of the best products of industry and 
mind. 

There is, perhaps but one way by which 
we could avoid all possible defects, and that 
is, by avoiding all possible exertion. The 
very fastidious, and the very uncharitable, 
may too often be met with, in the class of 
the indolent ; and the man of talent is ge- 
nerally most liberal in his censure, whose 



VI PREFACE. 

industry has given him least title to praise. 
Thus defects and detraction are as the spots 
and shadow which of necessity adhere and 
attach to every object of honourable toil. 
Were it possible for the friends of Mr. 
Phillips to select those defects which could 
fill up the measure of unavoidable imper- 
fection, and at the same time inflict least 
injury on his reputation, doubtless they 
would prefer the blemishes and errors na- 
tural to youth, consonant to genius, and con- 
sistent with an obvious andready correction. 
To this description, we apprehend, may be 
reduced all the errors that have been im- 
puted through a system of wide-spreading 
and unwearied criticism, animated by that 
envy with which indolence too oft regards 
the success of industry and talent, and 
subsidized by power in its struggle to re- 
press the reputation and importance of a 
rapidly rising young man, whom it had 
such good reason both to hate and fear. For 
it would be ignorance not to know, and 
knowing, it would be affectation to conceal, 
that his political principles were a draw- 
back on his reputation ; and that the dis- 
praise of these speeches has been a dis- 
countable quantity for the promotion of 
placemen and the procurement of place. 

This system of depreciation thus pow- 
erfully wielded, even to the date of the pre- 
sent publication, failed not in its energy^ 



PREFACE. Vll 

though it has in its object; nay more, it 
has succeeded in procuring for him the 
beneficial results of a multiplying re-ac- 
tion. To borrow the expression of an emi- 
nent classic, "the rays of their indignation 
collected upon him, served to illumine, but 
could not consume ;" and doubtless, this 
hostility may have promoted this fact, that 
the materials of this volume are at this mo. 
ment read in all the languages of Europe ; 
and whatever be the proportion of their 
merits to their faults, they are unlikely to 
escape the attention of posterity. 

The independent reader, whom this book 
may introduce to a first or more correct 
acquaintance with his eloquence, will there- 
fore be disposed to protect his mind against 
these illiberal prepossessions thus actively 
diffused, an the double consideration that 
some defects are essential to such and so 
much labour, and that some detraction may 
justly be accounted for by the motives of 
the system whose vices he exposed. The 
same reader, if he had not the opportu- 
nity of hearing these speeches delivered by 
the author, will make in his favour another 
deduction for a different reason. 

The great father of ancient eloquence 
"was accustomed to say, that action was the 
first, and second, and last quality of an 
orator. This was the dictum of a supreme 
authority ; it was an exaggeration notwith- 



VIU PREFACE. 

standing ; but the observation must contain 
much truth to permit such exaggeration ; 
and whilst we allow that delivery is not eve- 
ry thing, it will be allowed that it is much 
of the effect of oratory. 

Nature has been bountiful to the subject 
of these remarks in the useful accident of 
a prepossessing exterior ; an interesting 
figure, an animated countenance, and a de- 
meanour devoid of affectation, and distin- 
guished by a modest self-possession, give 
him the favourable opinion of his audience, 
even before he has addressed them. His 
eager, lively, and sparkling eye melts or 
kindles in pathos or indignation ; his voice, 
by its compass, sweetness, and variety, ever 
audible and seldom loud, never hurried, in- 
articulate, or indistinct, secures to his audi- 
ence every word that he utters, and pre- 
serves him from the painful appearance of 
effort 

His memory is not less faithful in the 
conveyance of his meaning, than his voice: 
unlike Fox in this respect, he never wants 
a word ; unlike Bushe, he never pretends 
to want one ; and unlike Grattan, he never 
either wants or recalls one. 

His delivery is freed from every thing 
fantastic — is simple and elegant, impres- 
sive and sincere ; and if we add the circum- 
stance of his youth to his other external 
qualifications, none of his contemporaries 



PREFACE. IX 

in this vocation can pretend to an equal 
combination of these accidental advanta- 
ges* 

If, then, action be a great part of the ef- 
fect of oratory, the reader who has not 
heard him is excluded from that considera- 
tion, so important to a right opinion, and on 
which his excellence is unquestioned. 

The ablest and severest of all the critics 
who have assailed him, (we allude of course, 
to the Edinburgh Review, in their criti- 
cism on Guthrie and Sterne, have paid him. 
an involuntary and unprecedented compli- 
ment. He is the only individual in these 
countries to whom this literary work has 
devoted an entire article on a single speech ; 
and when it is recollected that the basis of 
this criticism was an unauthorised and in- 
correct publication of a single forensic ex- 
ertion in the ordinary routine of profes- 
sional business, it is very questionable whe- 
ther such a publication afforded a just and 
proportionate ground- work for so much ge- 
neral criticism, or a fair criterion of the 
alleged speaker's general merits. This 
criticism sums up its objections, and con- 
cludes its remarks, by the following com- 
mending observation, — that a more strict 
control over his fancy would constitute a re- 
medy for his defects. 

Exuberance of fancy is certainly a defect, 

but it is evidence of an attribute essential to 

an orator. There are few men without 

some judgment, but there are many men 

B 



X PREFACE. 

without any imagination; the latter class 
never did, and never can produce an orator. 
Without imagination, the speaker sinks to 
the mere dry arguer, the matter-of-fact 
man, the calculator, or syllogist, or sophist ; 
the dealer in figures ; the compiler of facts ; 
the mason, but not the architect of the pile ; 
for the dictate of the imagination is the in- 
spiration of oratory, which imparts to mat- 
ter animation and soul. 

Oratory is the great art of persuasion ; 
its purpose is to give, in a particular in- 
stance, a certain direction to human action. 
The faculties of the orator are judgment 
and imagination ; and reason and elo- 
quence, the product of these faculties, 
must work on the judgment and feelings 
of his audience for the attainment of his 
end. The speaker who addresses the 
judgment alone may he argumentative, hut 
never can he eloquent ; for argument in- 
structs without interesting, and eloquence 
interests without convincing ; but oratory 
is neither ; it is the compound of both ; it 
conjoins the feelings and opinions of men ; 
it speaks to the passions through the mind, 
and to the mind through the passions ; and 
leads its audience to its just purpose by the 
combined and powerful agency of human 
reason and human feeling. The compo- 
nents of this combination will vary, of 
course, in proportion to the number and 
sagacity of the auditory which the speaker 



PREFACE. XI 

addresses. With judges it is to be hoped 
that the passions will be weak ; with pub- 
lic assemblies it is to be hoped that rea- 
soning will be strong; but although the 
imagination may, in the first case, be un- 
employed, in the second it cannot be dis- 
pensed with ; for if the advocate of virtue 
avoids to address the feelings of a mixed 
assembly, whether it be a jury or a politi- 
cal meeting, he has no security that their 
feeling, and their bad feelings, may not be 
brought into action against him ; he surren- 
ders to his enemy the strongest of his wea- 
pons, and by a species of irrational genero- 
sity contrives to ensure his own defeat in 
the conflict. To juries and public assem- 
blies alone the following speeches have 
been addressed ; and it is by ascertaining 
their effect on these assemblies or juries, 
that the merit of the exertion should in 
justice be measured. 

But there seems a general and prevalent 
mistake among our critics on this judg- 
ment. They seem to think that the taste 
of the individual is the standard by which 
the value of oratory should be decided. 
We do not consider oratory a mere matter 
of taste ; it is a given means for the pro- 
curement of a given end ; and the fitness 
of its means to the attainment of its end 
should be in chief the measure of its merit 
-—of this fitness success ought to be evi- 
dence. The preacher who can melt his 



Xll PREFACE. 

congregation into tears, and excel others in 
his struggle to convert the superfluities of 
the opulent into a treasury for the wretch- 
ed ;— the advocate who procures the largest 
compensation from juries on their oaths for 
injuries which they try; — the man who, like 
Mr. Phillips, can be accused (if ever any 
man was so accused, except himself) by 
grave lawyers, and before grave judges, of 
having procured a verdict from twelve saga- 
cious and most respectable special jurors by 
fascination; of having, by the fascination of 
his eloquence, blinded them to that duty 
which they were sworn to observe : — the 
man who can be accused of this on oath, 
and the fascination of whose speaking is 
made a ground work, though an unsuccess- 
ful one, for setting aside a verdict ; — he 
may be wrong and ignorant in his study 
and practice of oratory : but, with all his 
errors and ignorance, it must be admitted, 
that he has in some manner stumbled on 
the shortest way for attaining the end of 
oratory— that is, giving the most forceful 
direction to human action and determina- 
tion in particular instances. His elo- 
quence may be a novelty, but it is beyond 
example successful ; and its success and 
novelty may be another explanation for the 
hostility that assails. It may be matter of 
taste, but it certainly would not be matter 
of judgment or prudence in Mr. Phillips 
to depart from a course which has proved 



PREFACE. X10 

most successful, and which has procured 
for him within the last year a larger num- 
ber of readers through the world than ever 
in the same time resorted to the produc- 
tions of any man of these countries. His 
youth carries with it not only much excuse, 
but much promise of future improvement ; 
and doubtless he will not neglect to apply 
the fruits of study and the lights of expe- 
rience to each succeeding exertion. But 
his manner is his own, and every man's own 
manner is his best manner ; and so long 
as it works with this unexampled success, 
he should be slow to adopt the suggestions 
of his enemies, although he should be se- 
dulous in adopting all legitimate improve- 
ment. To that very exuberance of imagi- 
nation, we do not hesitate to ascribe much 
of his success ; whilst, therefore, he con- 
sents to control it, let him be careful lest 
he clips his wings : nor is the strength of 
fhis faculty an argument, although it has 
been made an argument, against the 
strength of his reasoning powers ; for letus 
strip these Speeches of every thing, whose 
derivation could be, by any construction, as- 
signed to his fancy ; let us apply this rule 
to his judicial and political exertions — for 
instance, to the speech on Guthrie and 
Sterne, and the late one to the gentlemen of 
Liverpool — let their topics be translated 
into plain, dull language, and then we would 
ask, what collection of topics could be more 



XIV PREFACE. 

judicious, better arranged, or classed in a 
more lucid and consecutive order by the 
most tiresome wisdom of the sagest arguer 
at the bar ? Is there not abundance to sa- 
tisfy the judgment, even if there were no- 
thing to sway the feelings, or gratify the 
imagination ? How preposterous, then, the 
futile endeavour to undervalue the solidity 
of the ground-work, by withdrawing atten- 
tion to the beauty of the ornament : or to 
maintain the deficiency of strength in the 
base, merely because there appears so much 
splendour in the structure. 

Unaided by the advantages of fortune or 
alliance, under the frown of political power 
and the interested detraction of professional 
jealousy, confining the exercise of that ta- 
lent which he derives from his God to the 
honor, and succour, and protection of his 
creatures — this interesting and highly-gift- 
ed young man runs his course like a giant, 
prospering and to prosper ; — in the court as 
a flaming sword, leading and lighting the 
injured to their own ; and in the public as- 
sembly exposing her wrongs — exacting her 
rights — conquering envy — trampling on 
corruption — beloved by his country— es- 
teemed by a world — enjoying and deserv- 
ing an unexampled fame — and actively em- 
ploying the summer of his life in gather- 
ing honors for his name, and garlands for 
his grave ! 



CONTENTS. 



Pagii. 

Speech delivered at a Public Dinner given to Mr. Fin- 
lay by the Roman Catholics of the Town and County 
of Sligo. 17 

Speech delivered at an Aggregate Meeting of the Roman 
Catholics of Cork 35 

Speech delivered at a Dinner given on Dinas Island, in 
the Lake of Killarney, on Mr. Phillip's Health be- 
ing given, together with that of Mr. Payne, a young 
American 53 

Speech delivered at an Aggregate Meeting of the Roman 
Catholics of the County and City of Dublin 6t 

Petition referred to in the preceding Speech, drawn by 
Mr. Phillips at the request of the Roman Catholics of 
Ireland 87 

The Address to H. R. H. the Princess of Wales, drawn by 
Mr. Phillips at the request of the Roman Catholics of 
Ireland 89 

Speech delivered by Mr. Phillips at a Public Dinner given 
to him by the Friends of Civil and Religious Liberty in 
Liverpool 91 

Speech of Mr. Phillips in the case of Guthrie v. Sterne 
delivered in the Court of Common Pleas Dublin ?06 



XVI. CONTENTS. 

Speech of Mr. Phillips in the case of O'Mullen v. M'Korkill, 
delivered at the County Court-house. Gal way 133 

Speech in the case of Connaghtun v. Dillon delivered in the 
County Court-house of Roscommon 160 

Speech of Mr. Phillips in the case of Creighton v. Town- 
send, delivered in the Court of Common Pleas, Dub- 
lin 177 

Speech in the case of Blake v. Wilkins, delivered in the 
County Court-house, Gal way 195 

A Character of Napoleon Buonaparte, down to the period 
of his Exile to Elba 216 

Speech of Mr. Phillips in the case of Brown v. Blake, 
for crim. con. delivered in Dublin, on the 9th July, 
■ ' 1517. 222 



A SPEECH 

DELIVERED AT A PUBLIC DINNER, GIVEN TO 

MR. FINLAY, 

BY THE ROMAJy CATHOLICS 
OF THE TOWN AND COUNTY OF SLIGO. 



I THINK, Sir, you will agree with me, that the 
most experienced speaker, might justly tremble in ad- 
dressing you, after the display you have just witnessed. 
What, then, must I feel, who never before addressed a 
public audience ? However, it would be but an unwor- 
thy affectation in me, were I to conceal from you, the 
emotions with which I am agitated by this kindness. 
The exaggerated estimate which other countries have 
made of the few services so young a man could ren- 
der, has, I hope, inspired me with the sentiments it 
ought; but here, I do confess to you, I feel no ordinary 
sensation— here, where every object springs some new 
association, and the loveliest objects, mellowed as they 
ire by time, rise painted on the eye of memory — here, 



18 



SPEECH 



where the light of heaven first blessed my infant view, 
and nature breathed into my infant heart, that ardour 
for my country which nothing but death can chill — 
here, where the scenes of my childhood remind me, 
how innocent I was, and the grave of my fathers ad- 
monish me, how pure I should continue — here, standing 
as I do amongst my fairest, fondest, earliest sympathies, 
— such a welcome, operating, not merely as an affec- 
tionate tribute, but as a moral testimony, does indeed 
quite oppress and overwhelm me. 

Oh ! believe me, warm is the heart that feels, and 
willing is the tongue that speaks ; and still, I cannot, 
by shaping it to my rudely inexpressive phrase, shock 
the sensibility of a gratitude too full to be suppressed, 
and yet (how far !) too eloquent for language. 

If any circumstance could add to the pleasure of this 
day it is that which I feel in introducing to the friends 
of my youth, the friend of my adoption, though perhaps 
I am committing one of our imputed blunders, when I 
speak of introducing one whose patriotism has already 
rendered him familiar to every heart in Ireland ; a man, 
who, conquering every disadvantage, and spurning eve- 
ry difficulty, has poured around our misfortunes the 
splendour of an intellect, that at once irradiates and 
consumes them. For the services he has rendered to 
his country, from my heart I thank him, and, for myself, 
I offer him a personal, it may be a selfish, tribute for 
saving me, by his presence this night, from an impo- 
tent attempt at his panegyric. Indeed gentlemen, yon 



AT SLIGO, 



19 



can have little idea of what he has to endure, who, 
in these times, advocates your cause. Every calumny 
which the venal and the vulgar, and the vile are lavish- 
ing upon you, is visited with exaggeration upon us. We 
are called traitors, because we would rally round the 
crown an unanimous people. We are called apostates, 
because we will not persecute Christianity. We are 
branded as separatists, because of our endeavors to an- 
nihilate the fetters that, instead of binding, clog the 
connexion. To these may be added, the frowns of pow- 
er, the envy of dulness, the mean malice of exposed self- 
interest, and, it may be, in despite of all natural affec- 
tion, even the discountenance of kindred ! — Well, be it 
so, — 

For thee, fair Freedom, welcome all the past, 
For thee, my country, welcome, even the last ! 

I am not ashamed to confess to you, that there was a 
day when I was bigoted as the blackest; but I thank 
-the Being who gifted me with a mind not quite imper- 
vious to conviction, and I thank you, who afforded such 
convincing testimonies of my error. I saw you endur- 
ing with patience the most unmerited assaults, bowing 
before the insults of revived anniversaries ; in private 
life, exemplary ; in public, unoffending ; in the hour of 
peace, asserting your loyalty ; in the hour of danger, 
proving it. Even when an invading enemy victoriously 
penetrated into the very heart of our county, I saw the 
banner of your allegiance beaming refutation on your 
slanderers; was it a wonder then, that I seized my 



£Q SPEECH 

prejudices, and with a blush burned them on the altar 
of my country ! 

The great question of Catholic, shall I not rather 
say, of Irish emancipation, has now assumed that na- 
tional aspect which imperiously challenges the scrutiny 
of every one. While it was shrouded in the mantle of 
religious mystery, with the temple for its sanctuary, 
and the pontiff for its sentinel, the vulgar eye might 
shrink and the vulgar spirit shudder. But now it has 
come forth, visible and tangible for the inspection of 
the laity; and I solemnly protest, dressed as it has been 
in the double haberdashery of the English minister and 
the Italian prelate, I know not whether to laugh at its 
appearance, or to loathe its pretensions — to shudder at 
the deformity of its original creation, or smile at the 
grotesqueness of its foreign decorations. Only just ad- 
mire this far-famed security bill, — this motly compound 
of oaths and penalties, which, under the name of eman- 
cipation, would drag your prelates with a halter about 
their necks to the vulgar scrutiny of every village-tyrant, 
in order to enrich a few political traders, and distil 
through some state alembic the miserable rinsings of an 
ignorant, a decaying, and degenerate aristocracy ! 
Only just admire it ! Originally engendered by our 
friends the opposition, with a cuckoo insidiousness, they 
swindled it into the nest of the treasury ravens, and 
when it had been fairly hatched with the beak of the 
one, and the nakedness of the other, they sent it for its 
feathers to Monseigneur Qu arantotti, who has obli- 



AT SLIGO. • g^ 

gingly transmitted it with the hunger of its parent, the 
rapacity of its nurse, and the coxcombry of its plumas- 
sier, to be baptized by the bishops, and received ceqvo 
gratoque animo by the people of Ireland ! ! Oh, thou 
sublimely ridiculous Quarantotti ! Oh, thou superlative 
coxcomb of the conclave ! what an estimate hast thou 
formed of the mind of Ireland ! Yet why should J 
blame this wretched scribe of the Propaganda ! He had 
every right to speculate as he did ; all the chances of the 
calculation were in his favor. Uncommon must be the 
people, over whom centuries of oppression have revolv- 
ed in vain! Strange must be the misid, which is not 
subdued by suffering ! Sublime the spirit* which is not 
debased by servitude ! God, I give thee thanks ! — he 
knew not Ikeiand. Bent — broken — manacled as she 
has been, she will not bow to the mandate of an Italian 
slave, transmitted through an English vicar. For my 
own part, as an Irish Protestant I trample to the earth 
this audacious and desperate experiment of authority ; 
and for you, as ^Catholics, the time is come to give that 
calumny the lie, which represents you as subservient to a 
foreign influence. That influence, indeed, seems not 
quite so unbending as it suited the purposes of bigotry 
to represent it, and appears now not to have conceded 
more, only because more was not demanded. The theo- 
logy of the question is not for me to argue , it cannot be 
in better hands than in those of your bishops ; and I 
can have no doubt that when they bring their rank, their 
learning, their talents, their piety, and their patriotism 



gg SPEECH 

to this sublime deliberation, they will consult the dignity 
of that venerable fabric which has stood fur ages, splen- 
did and immutable ; which time could not crumble, nor 
persecutions shake, nor revolutions change ; which has 
stood amongst us, like some stupendous and majestic 
Appenine, the earth rocking at its feet, and the heavens 
roaring round its head, firmly balanced on the base of 
its eternity ; the relic of what was ; the solemn and 
sublime memento of what must be ! 

Is this my opinion as a professed member of the 
church of England ? Undoubtedly it is. As an Irish- 
man, I feel my liberties interwoven, and the best affec- 
tions of my heart as it were enHbred with those of my 
Catholic countrymen; and as a Protestant, convinc- 
ed of the purity of my own faith, would I not debase 
it by postponing the powers of reason to the suspicious 
instrumentality of this world's conversion ? No ; sur- 
rendering as I do, with a proud contempt, all the degrad- 
ing advantages with which an ecclesiastical usurpation 
w\>uld invest me ; so I will not interfere* with a blasphe- 
mous intrusion between any man and his Maker. I 
hold it a criminal and accursed sacrilege, to rob even a 
beggar of a single motive for his devotion ? and I hold 
it an equal insult to my own faith, to offer me any boon 
for its profession. This pretended emancipation-bill 
passing into a law, would, in my mind, strike not a blow 
at this sect or that sect, but at the very vitality of Chris- 
tianity itself. I am thoroughly convinced that the anti- 
christian connexion between church and state, which it 



AT SLIGO. 23 

was suited to increase, has done more mischief to the 
Gospel interests, than all the ravings of infidelity since 
the crucifixion. The sublime Creator of our blessed 
creed never meant it to be the channel of a courtly influ- 
ence, or the source of a corrupt ascendency. He sent it 
amongst us to heal, not to irritate; to associate, not to 
seclude; to collect together, like the baptismal dove, 
every creed and clime and colour in the universe, be- 
neath the spotless wing of its protection. The union of 
church and state only converts good Christians into bad 
statesmen, and political knaves into pretended Chris- 
tians. It is at best but a foul and adulterous connexion, 
polluting the purity of heaven with the abomination of 
earth, and hanging the tatters of a political piety upon the 
cross of an insulted Saviour. Religion, Holt Rexi- 
gion, ought not, in the words of its Founder, to be i( led 
into temptation." The hand that holds her chalice 
should be pure, and the priests of her temple should be 
spotless as the vestments of their ministry. Rank only 
degrades, wealth only impoverishes, ornaments but dis- 
figure her. I w T ould have her pure, unpensioned, unsti- 
pendiary ; she should rob the earth of nothing but its 
sorrows : a divine arch of promise, her extremities 
should rest on the horizon, and her span embrace the 
universe ; but her only sustenance should be the tears 
that were exhaled and embellished by the sun-beam. 
Such is my idea of what religion ought to be. What 
would this bill make it ? A mendicant of the Castle, a 
menial at the levee, its manual the red-book, its liturgy 



g^ SPEECH 

the pension list, its gospel the will of the minister ! Me- 
thiiiks I see the stalled and fatted victim of its creation, 
cringing with a brute suppliancy through the venal mob 
of ministerial flatterers, crouching to the ephemeral 
idol of the day, and, like the devoted sacrifice of ancient 
heathenism, glorying in the garland that only decorates 
him for death ! I will read to you the opinions of a ce- 
lebrated Irishman, on the suggestion in his day, of a bill 
similar to that now proposed for our oppression. He 
was a man who added to the pride not merely of his 
country but of his species — a man who robed the very 
soul of inspiration in the splendours of a pure and over- 
powering eloquence. I allude to Mr. Burke — an autho- 
rity at least to which the sticklers for establishments 
can offer no objection. " Before I had written thus fair*' 
says he, in his letter on the penal laws, <l I heard of a 
scheme for giving to the Castle the patronage of the pre- 
siding members of the Catholic clergy. At first I could 
scarcely credit it, for I believe it is the first time that the 
presentation to other people's alms has been desired in 
any country. Never were the members of one religious 
sect lit to appoint the pastors to another. It is a great 
deal to suppose that the present Castle would nominate 
bishops for the Roman church in Ireland, with a reli- 
gious regard for its welfare. Perhaps they cannot, per- 
haps they dare not do it. But suppose them to be as 
well inclined, as I know that I am, to do the Catholics 
all kinds of justice, I declare I would not, if it were in 
my power, take that patronage on myself. I know I 



ATSLIGO. ^S 

ought not to do it. I belong- to another community ; and 
it would bean intolerable usurpation in me, where I con- 
ferred no benefit, or even if I did confer temporal advan- 
tages, How can the Lord Lieutenant form the least 
judgment on their merits so as to decide which of the 
popish priests is fit to be a bishop ? It cannot be. The 
idea is ridiculous. He will hand them over to Lords- 
Lieutenant of counties, justices of the peace, and others 
who, for the purpose of vexing and turning into derision 
this miserable people, will pick out the worst and most 
obnoxious they can find amongst the clergy to govern 
the rest. Whoever is complained against by his brother, 
will be considered as persecuted ; whoever is censured 
by his superior, will be looked upon as oppressed ; who- 
ever is careless in his opinions, loose in his morals, will 
be called a liberal man, and will be supposed to have in- 
curred hatred because he was not a bigot. Informers, 
tale-bearers, perverse and obstinate men, flatterers, who 
turn their back upon their flock, and court the Protes- 
tant gentlemen of their country, will be the objects of 
preferment, and then I run no risk in foretelling, that 
whatever order, quiet, and morality you have in the 
country will be lost." Now, let me ask you, is it to 
such characters as those described by Burke, that you 
would delegate the influence.imputed to your priesthood ? 
Believe me, you would soon see them transferring their 
devotion from the Cross to the Casti,e ; wearing their 
sacred vestments but as a masquerade appendage, and, 

under the degraded passport of the Almighty's name, 

D 



25 SPEECH 

sharing the pleasures of the court, and the spoils of the 
people. When I say this, I am bound to add, and I do 
so from many proud and pleasing recollections, that I 
think the impression on the Catholic clergy of the pre- 
sent day would be late, and would be delible. But it is 
human nature. Rare are the instances in which a con- 
tact with the court has not been the beginning of cor- 
ruption. The man of God is peculiarly disconnected 
with it. It directly violates his special mandate, who 
took his birth from the manger, and his disciples from 
the fishing-boat. Judas was the first who received .the 
money of power, and it ended in the disgrace of his creed, 
and the death of his master. If I was a Catholic, I 
would peculiarly deprecate any interference with my 
priesthood. Indeed, I do not think, in any one respect 
in which we should wish to view the delegates of the Al- 
mighty, that, making fair allowances for human infirmi- 
ty, they could be amended. The Catholic clergy of Ire- 
land are rare examples of the doctrines they inculcate. 
Pious in their habits, almost primitive in their manners, 
they have no care but their flock — no study but their 
Gospel. It is not in the gaudy ring of courtly dissipa- 
tion that you will find the Murrays, the Coppingers, 
and the Moylands of the present day — not at the levee, 
or the lounge, or the election-riot. No ; you will find 
them wherever good is to be done or evil to be corrected 
— rearing their mitres in the van of misery, consoling 
the captive, reforming the convict, enriching the or- 
phan ; ornaments of this world, and emblems of a better: 



AT SLTGO. 



27 



preaching their God through the practice of every vir- 
tue ; monitors at the confessional, apostles in the pulpit, 
saints at the death-bed, holding the sacred water to the 
lip of sin, or pouring the redeeming unction on the ago- 
nies of despair. Oh, I would hold him little better 
than the Promethean robber, who would turn the fire of 
their eternal altar into the impure and perishable mass 
of this world's preferment. Better by far that the days 
of ancient barbarism should revive — better that your re- 
ligion should again take refuge among the fastnesses of 
the mountain, and the solitude of the cavern—better that 
the rack of a murderous bigotry should again terminate 
the miseries of your priesthood, and that the gate of free- 
dom should be only open to them through the gate of mar- 
tyrdom, than they should gild their missals with the wa- 
ges of a court, and expect their ecclesiastical promotion, 
not from their superior piety, but their comparative pros- 
titution. But why this interference with your principles 
of conscience ? Why is it that they will not erect your 
liberties save on the ruin of your temples ? Why is it 
that in the day of peace they demand securities from a 
people who in the day of danger constituted their 
strength ? When were they denied every security that 
was reasonable ? Was it in 1776, when a cloud of ene- 
mies, hovering on our coast, saw every heart a shield, 
and every hill a fortress ? Did they want securities in 
Catholic Spain ? Were they denied securities in Catho- 
lic Portugal ? What is their security to day in Catholic 
Canada ? Return — return to us our own glorious Wex~ 



2$ 



SPEECH 



xington, and tell incredulous England what was her 
security amid the lines of Torres Vedras, or on the sum- 
mit of Barrossa ! Rise, libelled martyrs of the Penin- 
sula ! — rise from your " gory bed," and give security 
for your childless parents ! No, there is not a Catholic 
family in Ireland, that for the glory of Great Britain is 
not weeping over a child's, a brother's or a parent's 
grave, and yet still she clamours for securities ! Oh, 
Prejudice, where is thy reason ! Oh, Bigotry ! where 
is thy blush ! If ever there was an opportunity for 
England to combine gratitude with justice, and dignity 
with safety, it is the present. Now, when Irish blood 
has crimsoned the cross upon her naval flag, and an Irish 
hero strikes the harp to victory upon the summit of the 
Pyrenees. England — England ! do not hesitate. This 
hour of triumph may be but the hour of trial ; another 
season may see the splendid panorama of European 
vassalage, arrayed by your ruthless enemy, and glitter- 
ing beneath the ruins of another capitol — perhaps of 
London. Who can say it ? A few months since, Mos- 
cow stood as splendid as secure. Fair rose the 
morn on the patriarchal city — the empress of her nation, 
the queen of commerce, the sanctuary of strangers, her 
thousand spires pierced the very heavens, and her domes 
of gold reflected back the sun-beams. The spoiler 
came ; he marked her for his victim ; and, as if his very 
glance was destiny, even before the nightfall, with all 
her pomp, and wealth, and happiness, she withered from 
the world ! A heap of ashes told where once stood Mos- 



AT SLIGO. 



§9 



cow ! Merciful God, if this lord of desolation, heading 
his locust legions, were to invade our country ; though 
I do not ask what would be your determination ; though, 
in the language of our young enthusiast, I am sure you 
would oppose him with u a sword in one hand, and a 
torch in the other ;*' still I do ask, and ask with fearless- 
ness, upon what single principle of policy or of justice, 
could the advocates for your exclusion solicit your assis- 
tance — could they expect you to support a constitution 
from whose benefits you were debarred ? With what 
front could they ask you to recover an ascendency, which 
in point of fact was but re-establishing your bondage ? 

It has been said that there is a faction in Ireland rea- 
dy to join this despot — " a French party," as Mr. Grat- 
tan thought it decent, even in the very senate-house, to 
promulgate. Sir, I speak the universal voice of Ireland 
when I say, she spurns the imputation. There is no 
" French party," here, but there is — and it would be 
strange if there was not — there is an Irish party — men 
who cannot bear to see their country taunted with the 
mockery of a constitution — men who will be content with 
no connexion that refuses them a community of benefits 
while it imposes a community of privations — men "who 
sooner than see this land polluted by the footsteps of a 
slave, would wish the ocean-wave became its sepulchre, 
and that the orb of heaven forgot where it existed. It 
has been said too (and when we were to be calumniated, 
what has not been said ?) that Irishmen are neither fit 
for freedom or grateful for favours. In the first place, I 



30 



SPEECH. 



deny that to be a favour which is a right ; and in the next 
place, I utterly deny that a system of conciliation has 
ever been adopted with respect to Ireland. Try them, 
and, my life on it, they will be found grateful. I think I 
know my countrymen ; they cannot help being grateful 
for a benefit ; and there is no country on the earth where 
one would be conferred with more characteristic benevo- 
lence. They are, emphatically, the school-boys of the 
heart — a people of sympathy ; their acts spring instinc- 
tively from their passions ; by nature ardent, by instinct 
brave, by inheritance generous. The children of im- 
pulse, they cannot avoid their virtues ; and to be other 
than noble, they must not only be unnatural but unna- 
tional. Put my panegyric to the test. Enter the hovel of 
the Irish peasant. I do not say you will find the frugality 
of the Scotch, the comfort of the English, or the fantas- 
tic decorations of the French cottager ; but I do say, 
within those wretched bazaars of mud and misery, you 
will find sensibility the most affecting, politeness the 
most natural, hospitality the most grateful, merit the 
most unconscious ; their look is eloquence, their smile 
is love, their retort is wit, their remark is wisdom — not 
a wisdom borrowed from the dead, but that with which 
nature has herself inspired them ; an acute observance 
of the passing scene, and a deep insight into the motives 
of its agent. Try to deceive them, and see with what 
shrewdness they will detect ; try to outwit them, and 
see with what humour they will elude ; attack them with 
argument, and you will stand amazed at the strength of 



AT SLTGO. 



31 



their expression, the rapidity of their ideas, and the 
energy of their gesture ! In short, God seems to have 
formed our country like our people ; he has thrown 
round the one its wild, magnificent, decorated rudeness; 
he has infused into the other the simplicity of genius 
and the seeds of virtue : he says audibly to us, ** Give 
them cultivation." 

This is the way, Gentlemen, in which I have always 
looked upon your question — not as a party, or a secta- 
rian, or a Catholic, but as an Irish question. Is it pos- 
sible that any man can seriously believe the paralyzing 
five millions of such a people as I have been describing, 
can be a benefit to the empire ! Is there any man who 
deserves the name not of a statesman but of a rational 
being, who can think it politic to rob such a multitude of 
all the energies of an honourable ambition ! Look to 
Protestant Ireland, shooting over the empire those rays 
of genius, and those thunderbolts of war, that have at 
once embellished and preserved it. I speak not of a 
former era. I refer not for my example to the day just 
passed when our Burkes, our Barrys, and our Gold- 
smiths, exiled by this system from their native shore, 
wreathed the " immortal shamrock" round the brow of 
painting, poetry, and eloquence ! But now, even while 
I speak, who leads the British senate ? A Protestant 
Irishman ! Who guides the British arms ? A Protestant 
Irishman ! And why, why is Catholic Ireland, with 
her quintuple population, stationary and silent ? Have 
physical causes neutralized its energies ? Has the reli- 



g£ SPEECH 

gion of Christ stupefied its intellect ? Has the God of 
mankind become the partisan of a monopoly, and put an 
interdict on its advancement ? Stranger, do not ask the 
bigoted and pampered renegade who has an interest in 
deceiving you ; but open the penal statutes, and weep 
tears of blood over the reason. Come, come yourself, 
and see this unhappy people ; see the Irishman, the only 
alien in Ireland, in rags and wretchedness, staining the 
sweetest scenery ever eye reposed on, persecuted by the 
extorting middleman of some absentee landlord, plunder- 
ed by the lay-proctor of some rapacious and unsympa- 
thizing incumbent, bearing through life but insults and 
injustice, and bereaved even of any hope in death by the 
heart rending reflection that lie leaves his children to 
bear like their father an abominable bondage ! Is this 
the fact? Let any man who doubts it walk out into 
your streets, and see the consequences of such a system ; 
see it rearing up crowds in a kind of apprenticeship to 
the prison, absolutely permitted by their parents from 
ntter despair to lisp the alphabet and learn the rudi- 
ments of profligacy ? For my part, never did I meet 
one of these youthful assemblages without feeling within 
me a melancholy emotion. How often have I thought, 
within that little circle of neglected triflers who seem to 
have been born in caprice and bred in orphanage, there 
may exist some mind formed of the finest mould, and 
wrought for immortality ; a soul swelling with the ener- 
gies and stamped with the patent ef the Deity, which 
under proper culture might perhaps bless, adorn, iinmor- 



ATSLIGO. gg 

talize, or ennoble empires; some Cincinnattjs, in 
whose breast the destinies of a nation may lie dormant ; 
some Milton, "pregnant with celestial fire ;" some 
Curran, who, when thrones were crumbled and dynas- 
ties forgotten, might stand the landmark of his country's / 
genius, rearing himself amid regal ruins and nation alj/%^y//^ 
dissolution; a mental pyramid in the solitude of time, \fl>k fpij* 
beneath whose shade things might moulder, and round |j£#fe|f 
whose summit eternity must play. . Even in such a &v- J /tl//**^ 
cle the young Demosthenes might have once been — 
found, and Homer, the disgrace and glory of his age, 
have sung neglected ! Have not other nations witnessed 
those things, and who shall say that nature has peculi- 
arly degraded the intellect of Ireland ? Oh ! my 
countrymen, let us hope that under better auspices and 
a sounder policy, the ignorance that thinks so may meet 
its refutation. Let us turn from the blight and ruin of 
this wintry day to the fond anticipation of a happier . 
period, when our prostrate land shall stand erect among 
the nations, fearless and unfettered ; her brow blooming 
with the wreath of science, and her path strewed with 
the offerings of art ; the breath of heaven blessing her 
flag, the extremities of earth acknowledging her name, 
her fields waving with the fruits of agriculture, her 
ports alive with the contributions of commerce, and her 
temples vocal with unrestricted piety. Such is the am- 
bition of the true patriot ; such are the views for which 
we are calumniated ! Oh, divine ambition ! Oh, de- 
lightful calumny ! Happy he who shall see thee accom 

E 



« . SPEECH AT SLIGO. 

plished ! Happy he who through every peril toils for thy 
attainment! Proceed, friend of Ireland and partaker 
of her wrongs, proceed undaunted to this glorious con- 
summation. Fortune will not gild, power will not en- 
nohle thee : but thou shalt be rich in the love and titled 
by the blessings of thy country; thy path shall be illu- 

f mined by the public eye, thy labours enlightened by the 
public gratitude ; and oh, remember — amid the impedi- 

v ments with which corruption will oppose, and the dejec- 
tion with which disappointments may depress you — re- 
member you are acquiring a name to be cherished by the 
future generations of earth, long ajfter it has been enrolled 
amongst the inheritors of heaven. 



A SPEECH 

DELIVERED AT 

•AN AGGREGATE MEETING 

OF 

THE RQMW CATHOLICS OF CORK. 



It is with no small degree of self-congratulation 
that I at length find niyself in a province which every 
glance of the eve, and every throb of the heart, tells me 
is truly Irish ; and that congratulation is not a little 
enhanced by finding that you receive me not quite as a 
stranger. Indeed, if to respect the Christian without 
regard to his creed, if to love the country but the 
more for its calamities, if to hate oppression though it 
be robed in power, if to venerate integrity though it 
pine under persecution, gives a man any claim to your 
recognition ; then, indeed, I am not a stranger 
amongst you. There is a bond of union between 
brethren, however distant ; there is a sympathy be- 
tween the virtuous, however separated ; there is a hea- 
ven-born instinct by which the associates of the heart 
become at once acquainted, and "kindred natures as it 



36 



SPEECH 



were by magic see in the face of a stranger, the fea- 
tures of a friend. Thus it is that, though we never 
met, you hail in me the sweet association, and I feel 
myself amongst you even as if I were in the home of 
my nativity. But this my knowledge of you was not 
left to chance ; nor was it left to the records of your 
charity, the memorials of your patriotism, your mu- 
nicipal magnificence, or your commercial /splencRnir ; 
it came to me hallowed by the accents of that tongue 
on which Ireland has so often hung with ecstasy, 
heightened by the eloquence and endeared by the since- 
rity of, I hope, our mutual friend. Let me con- 
gratulate him on having become in some degree na- 
turalized in a province, where the spirit of the elder 
day seems to have lingered ; and let me congratulate 
you on the acquisition of a man who is at once the 
zealous advocate of your cause, and a practical in- 
stance of the nnjustice of your oppressions. Surely, 
surely if merit had fair play, if splendid talents, if in- 
defatigable industry, if great research, if unsullied 
principle, if a heart full of the finest affections, if a 
mind matured in every manly accomplishment, in 
short, if every noble, public quality, mellowed and 
reflected in the pure mirror of domestic virtue, could 
entitle a subject to distinction in a state, Mr. O'Connel 
should be distinguished ; but, it is his crime to be a 
Catholic, and his curse to be an Irishman. Simpleton ! 
he prefers his couscience to a place, and the love of 
his country to a participation in her plunder ! Indeed 



AT CORK. 



87 



he will never rise. If he joined the bigots of my 
sect, lie might be a sergeant ; if he joined the infidels 
of your sect, he might enjoy a pension, and there is 
»o knowing whether some Orange-corporator, or an 
Orange- anniversary, might not modestly yield him 
the precedence of giving *' the glorious and immortal 
memory." Oh, yes, he might be privileged to get 
drunk in gratitude to the man who colonized igno- 
rance in his native land, and left to his creed the legacy 
of legalized persecution. Nor would he stand alone, 
no matter what might be the measure of his disgrace, 
or the degree of his dereliction. You will know 
there are many of your own community who would 
leave him at the distance-post. In contemplating 
their recreancy, I should be almost tempted to smile 
at the exhibition of their pretensions, if there was not 
a kind of moral melancholy intermingled, that changed 
satire into pity, and ridicule into contempt. For my 
part, I behold them in the apathy of their servitude, as 
I would some miserable maniac in the contentment of 
his captivity. Poor creature! when all that raised 
him from the brute is levelled, and his glorious intel- 
lect is mouldering in ruins, you may see him with his 
song of triumph, and his crown of straw, a fancied 
freeman mid the clanking of his chains, and an imagi- 
nary monarch beneath, the inflictions of his keeper ! 
Merciful God ! is it not almost an argument for the 
sceptic and the disbeliever, when we see the human 
shape almost without an aspiration of the human soul ; 



gn SPtiECH. 

separated by no boundary from the beasts that perish 
beholding with indifference the captivity of their coun- 
try, the persecution of their creed, and the helpless, 
hopeless destiny of their children ? But they have nor 
creed, nor consciences, nor country ; their God is 
gold, their gospel is a contract, their church a count- 
ing-house, their characters a commodity ; they never 
pray but for the opportunities of corruption, and hold 
their consciences, as they do their government-deben- 
tures, at a price proportioned to the misfortunes of 
their country. But let us turn from those mendi- 
cants of disgrace : though Ireland is doomed to the 
stain of their birth, her mind need not be sullied by 
their contemplation. I turn from them with pleasure 
to the contemplation of your cause, which, as far as 
argument can affect it, stands on a sublime and splen- 
did elevation. Every obstacle has vanished into air ; 
every favourable circumstance has hardened into ada- 
mant. The Pope, whom childhood was taught to 
lisp as the enemy of religion, and age shuddered at 
as a prescriptive calamity, has by his example put the 
princes of Christendom to shame. This day of mira- 
cles, in which the human heart has been strung to 
its extremest point of energy ; this day, to which 
posterity will look for instances of every crime and 
every virtue, holds not in its page of wonders a more 
sublime phenomenon than that calumniated pontiff. 
Placed at the very pinnacle of human elevation, sur- 
rounded by the pomp of the Vatican and the spleu- 



AT CORK. 



39 



flours of the court, pouring the mandates of Christ 
from the throne of the C^sars, nations were his 
subjects, kings were his companions, religion was his 
handmaid; he went forth gorgeous with the accu- 
mulated dignity of ages, every knee bending, and 
every eye blessing the prince of one world and the 
prophet of another. Have we not seen him, in one 
moment, his crown crumbled, his sceptre a reed, his 
throne a shadow, his home a dungeon ! But if we 
have Catholics, it was only to shew how inestimable 
is human virtue compared with human grandeur; it 
was only to shew those whose faith was failing, and 
whose fears were strengthening, that the simplicity of 
the patriarchs, the piety of the saints, and the patience 
of the martyrs, had not wholly vanished. Perhaps it 
was also ordained to shew the bigot at home, as well 
as the tyrant abroad, that though the person might be 
chained, and the motive calumniated, Religion was 
still strong enough to support her sons, and to con- 
found, if she could not reclaim, her enemies. No 
threats could awe, no promises could tempt, no suf- 
ferings could appal him ; mid the damps of his dun- 
geon he dashed away the cup in which the pearl of 
his liberty was to be dissolved. Only reflect on the 
state of the world at that moment ? All around him 
was convulsed, the very foundations of the earth 
seemed giving way, the comet was let loose that 
" from its fiery hair shook pestilence and death," the 
twilight was gathering, the tempest was roaring, the 



4Q SPEECH 

darkness was at hand ; but lie towered sublime, like 
the last mountain in the. deluge— majestic, not less in 
his elevation than in his solitude, immutable amid 
change, magnificent amid ruin, the last remnant of 
earth's beauty, the last resting-place of heaven's light ! 
Thus have the terrors of the Vatican retreated ; 
thus has that cloud which hovered o'er your cause 
brightened at once into a sign of your faith and an as- 
surance of your victory. — Another obstacle, the om- 
nipotence of France ; I know it was a pretence, but 
it was made an obstacle — What has become of it! 
The spell of her invincibility destroyed, the spirit of 
her armies broken, her immense boundary dismem- 
bered, and the lord of her empire become the exile of 
a rock. She allows fancy no fear, and bigotry no 
speciousness ; and, as if in the very operation of the 
change to point the purpose of your redemption, the 
hand that replanted the rejected lily was that of an 
Irish Catholic. Perhaps it is not also unworthy of 
remark, that the last day of her triumph, and the first 
of her decline, was that on which her insatiable chief- 
tain smote the holy head of your religion. You will 
hardly suspect I am imbued with the follies of super- 
stition ; but when the man now unborn shall trace the 
story of that eventful day, he will see the adopted 
child of fortune borne on the wings of victory from 
clime to clime, marking every movement with a tri- 
umph, and every pause with a crown, till time, space, 
seasons, nay, even nature herself, seeming to vanish 



AT CORK. 44 

from before him, in the blasphemy of his ambition he 
smote the apostle of his God, and dared to raise the 
everlasting Cross amid his perishable trophies ! I am 
no fanatic, but is it not remarkable ? May it not be 
one of those signs which the Deity has sometimes 
given in compassion to our infirmity; signs, which 
in the punishment of our nation not unfrequently de- 
note the warning to another ; — 

" Signs sent by God to mark the will of Heaven, 
Signs, which bid nations weep and be forgiven." 

The argument, however, is taken from the bigot; 
and those whose consciousness taught them to expect 
what your loyalty should have taught them to repel, 
can no longer oppose you from the terrors of invasion. 
Thus, then, the papal phantom and the French threat 
have vanished into nothing. — Another obstacle, the 
tenets of your creed. Has England still to learn them ? 
I will tell her where. Let her ask Canada, the last 
plank of her American shipwreck. Let her ask Por- 
tugal, the first omen of her European splendour. Let 
her ask Spain, the most Catholic country in the uni- 
verse, her Catholic friends, her Catholic allies, her 
rivals in the triumph, her reliance in the retreat, her 
last stay when the world had deserted her. They 
must have told her on the field of blood, whether it 
was true that they i( kept no faith with heretics," 
Alas, alas ! how miserable a thing is bigotry, when 
every friend puts it to the blush, and every triumph 

F 



43 



SPEECH 



but rebukes its weakness. If England continued still 
to accredit this calumny, I would direct her for con- 
viction to the hero for whose gift alone she owes us 
an eternity of gratitude ; whom we have seen leading 
the van of universal emancipation, decking his wreath 
with the flowers of every soil, and filling his army withi 
the soldiers of every sect ; before whose splendid 
dawn, every tear exhaling and every vapour vanish- 
ing, the colours of the European world have revived, 
and the spirit of European liberty (may no crime 
avert the omen !) seems to have arisen ! Suppose he 
was a Catholic, could this have been ? Suppose Ca- 
tholics did not follow him, could this have been ? 
Did the Catholic Cortes inquire his faith when they 
gave him the supreme command ? Did the Regent 
of Portugal withhold from his creed the reward of his 
valour ? Did the Catholic soldier pause at Salamanca 
to dispute upon polemics ? Did the Catholic chief- 
tain prove upon Barrossa that he kept no faith with 
heretics, or did the creed of Spain, the same with 
that of France, the opposite of that of England, pre- 
vent their association in the field of liberty ? Oh, no, 
no, no ! the citizen of every clime, the friend of every 
colour, and the child of every creed, liberty walks 
abroad in the ubiquity of her benevolence ; alike to 
her the varieties of faith and the vicissitudes of coun- 
try ; she has no object but the happiness of man, no 
bounds but the extremities of creation. Yes, yes, it 
was reserved for Wellington to redeem his own coun- 



AT CORK. 



43 



try when be was regenerating every other. It was re- 
served for him to show how vile were the aspersions 
on your creed, how generous were the glowings of 
your gratitude. He was a Protestant, yet Catholics 
trusted him; he was a Protestant, yet Catholics ad- 
, vanced him ? he is a Protestant Knight in Catholic 
Portugal, he is a Protestant Duke in Catholic Spain, 
he is a protestant commander of Catholic armies : he 
is more, he is the living proof of the Catholic's libe- 
rality, and the undeniable refutation of the Protestant's 
injustice. Gentlemen, as a Protestant, though I may 
blush for the bigotry of many of my creed who con- 
tinue obstinate in the teeth of this conviction, still 
were I a Catholic I should feel little triumph in the 
victory. I should only hang my head at the distresses 
which this warfare occasioned to my country. I should 
only think how long she had writhed in the agony of 
her disunion ; how long she had bent, fettered by 
slaves, cajoled by blockheads, and plundered by ad- 
venturers ; the proverb of the fool, the prey of the 
politician, the dupe of the designing, the experiment 
of the desperate, struggling as it were between her 
own fanatical and infatuated parties, those hell-engen- 
dered serpents which enfold her, like the Trojan seer, 
even at the worship of her altars, and crush her to 
dtath in the very embraces of her children ! It is time 
(is it not?) that she should be extricated. The act 
would be proud, the means would be Christian; mu- 
tual forbearance, mutual indulgence, mutual conces- 



44 



SPEECH 



sion : I would say to the Protestant, Concede ; I 
would say to the Catholic, Forgive ; I would say to 
both, Though you bend not at the same shrine, you 
have a common God, and a common country ; the 
one has commanded love, the other kneels to you 
for peace This hostility of her sects has been the 
disgrace, the peculiar disgrace of Christianity. The 
Gen too loves his cast, so does the Mahometan, so 
does the Hindoo, whom England out of the abun- 
dance of her charity is about to teach her creed ; — I 
hope she may not teach her practice. But Christi- 
anity, Christianity alone exhibits her thousand sects, 
each denouncing his neighbour here, in the name of 
God, and damning hereafter out of pure devotion ! 
"You're a heretic," says the Catholic: "You're a 
Papist," says the Protestant ; u I appeal to Saint 
Peter," exclaims the Catholic : " I appeal to Saint 
Athanasius," cries the Protestant : " and if it goes to 
damning, he's as good at it as any saint in the calen- 
dar." ** You'll all be damned eternally," moans out 
the Methodist; " I'm the elect!" Thus it is, you 
see, each has his anathema, his accusation, and his 
retort, and in the end Religion is the victim ! The 
victory of each is the overthrow of all ; and Infidelity, 
laughing at the contest, writes the refutation of their 
creed in the blood of the combatants ! I wonder if 
this reflection has ever struck any of those reverend 
dignitaries who rear their mitres against Catholic 
emancipation. Has it ever glanced across their Chris- 



AT CORK. 4£ 

tian zeal, if the story of our country should have 
casually reached the valleys of Hindostan, with what 
an argument they arc furnishing the heathen world 
against their sacred missionary ? In what terms could 
the Christian ecclesiastic answer the Eastern Bramin, 
when he replied to his exhortations in language such as 
this? l < Father, we have heard your doctrine: it is 
splendid in theory, specious in promise, sublime in pros- 
pect ; like the world to which it leads, it is rich in the 
miracles of light. But, Father, we have heard that there 
are times when its rays vanish and leave your sphere in 
darkness, or when your only lustre arises from meteors 
of fire, and moons of blood : we have heard of the ver- 
dant island which the Great Spirit has raised in the 
bosom of the waters with such a bloom of beauty, that 
the very wave she has usurped worships the loveliness of 
her intrusion. The sovereign of our forests is not more 
generous in his anger than her sons; the snow-flake, 
ere it falls on the mountain, is not purer than her daugh- 
ters ; little inland seas reflect the splendours of her land- 
scape, and her valleys smile at the story of the serpent ! 
Father, is it true that this isle of the sun, this people of 
the morning, find the fury of the ocean in your creed, and 
more than the venom of the viper in your policy ? Is it 
true that for six hundred years, her peasant has not 
tasted peace, nor her piety 7 rested from persecution ? Oh ! 
Brama, defend us from the God of the Christian ! Father, 
father, return to your brethren, retrace the waters ; we 
may live in ignorance, but we live in love, and we will 



46 



SPEECH 



not taste the tree that gives us evil when it gives us wis-- 
dom. Tiie heart is our guide, nature is our gospel ; in 
the imitation of our fathers we found our hope, and, if we 
err, on the virtue of our motives we rely for our redemp- 
tion." How would the missionaries of the mitre answer 
Iti in ? How will they answer that insulted Being of whose 
creed their conduct carries the refutation ? — But to what 
end do I argue with the Bigot? — a wretch, whom no 
philosophy can humanize, no charity soften, no religion 
reclaim ; no miracle convert; a monster, who, red with 
the fires of hell, and hending under the crimes of earth, 
erects his murderous divinity upon a throne of sculls, 
and would gladly feed even with a brother's blood the 
cannibal appetite of his rejected altar ! His very interest 
cannot soften him into humanity. Surely, if it could, no 
man would be found mad enough to advocate a system 
which cankers the very heart of society, and undermines 
the natural resources of government ; which takes away 
the strongest excitement to industry, by closing up every 
avenue to laudable ambition ; which administers to the 
vanity or the vice of a party, when it should only study 
the advantage of a people ; and holds out the perquisites 
of state as an impious bounty on the persecution of re- 
ligion. — I have already shown that the power of the Pope, 
that the power of France, and that the tenets of your 
creed, were but imaginary auxiliaries to this system. 
Another pretended obstacle has, however, been opposed 
to your emancipation. I allude to the danger arising 
from a foreign influence. What a triumphant answer 



AT CORK. 



47 



can you give to that ! Methinks, as lately, I see the as- 
semblage of your hallowed hierarchy surrounded by the 
priesthood, and followed by the people, waving aloft the 
crucifix of Christ alike against the seductions of the 
court, and the commands of the conclave! Was it not a 
delightful, a heart-cheering spectacle, to see that holy 
band of brothers preferring the chance of martyrdom to 
the certainty of promotion, and postponing all the grati- 
fications of wordly pride, to the severe but heaven-gain- 
ing glories of their poverty ? They acted honestly, and 
they acted wisely also ; for I say here, before the lar- 
gest assembly I ever saw in any country — and I believe 
you are almost all Catholics — I say here, that if the see 
of Rome presumed to impose any temporal mandate di- 
rectly or indirectly on the Irish people, the Irish bishops 
should at once abandon it, or the flocks, one and all, 
would abjure and banish both of them together. History 
affords us too fatal an example of the perfidious, arro- 
gant, and venal interference of a papal usurper of for- 
mer days in the temporal jurisdiction of this country ; an 
interference assumed without right, exercised without 
principle, and followed by calamities apparently with- 
out end. Thus, then, has every obstacle vanished ; but 
it has done more — every obstacle has, as it were, by mi- 
racle, produced a powerful argument in your favour ! 
How do I prove it ? Follow me in my proofs, and you 
will see by what links the chain is united. The power 
of Napoleon was the grand and leading obstacle to your 
emancipation. That power led him to the menace of an 



48 



SPEECH. 



Irish invasion. What did that prove ? Only the since- 
rity of Irish allegiance. On the very threat, we poured 
forth our volunteers, our yeomen, and our militia : and 
the country became encircled with an armed and a 
loyal population. Thus, then, the calumny of your dis- 
affection vanished. That power next led him to the in- 
vasion of Portugal. What did it prove ? Only the good 
faith of Catholic allegiance. Every field in the Penin- 
sula saw the Catholic Portuguese hail the English Pro- 
testant as a brother and a friend joined in the same 
pride and the same peril. Thus, then, vanished the slan- 
der that you could not keep faith with heretics. That 
power next led him to the imprisonment of the Pontiff, 
so long suspected of being quite ready to sacrifice every 
thing to his interest and his dominion. What did that 
prove ? The strength of his principles, the purity of his 
faith, the disinterestedness of his practice. It proved a 
life spent in the study of the saints, and ready to be 
closed by an imitation of the martyrs. Thus, also, was 
the head of your religion vindicated to Europe. There 
remained behind but one impediment — your liability to 
a foreign influence. Now mark. ! The Pontiff's captivity 
led to the transmission of Quarantotti's rescript; and, on 
its arrival, from the priest to the peasant, there was not 
a Catholic in the land, who did not spurn the document 
of Italian audacity ! Thus, then, vanished also the phan- 
tom of a foreign influence ! Is this conviction ? Is it not 
the hand of God in it ? Oh yes ! for observe what fol- 
lowed. The very moment that power, which was the first 



AT CORK. 



49 



and last leading argument against you, had, by its spe- 
cial operation, banished every obstacle ; that power 
itself, as it were by enchantment, evaporated at once ; 
and peace with Europe took away the last pretence for 
your exclusion. Peace with Europe ! alas, alas, there 
is nO peace for Ireland : the universal pacification was 
but the signal for renewed hostility to us, and the mock- 
ery of its preliminaries were tolled through our pro- 
vinces by the knell of the curfew. I ask, is it not time 
that this hostility should cease? If ever there was a day 
when it was necessary, that day undoubtedly exists no 
longer. The continent is triumphant, the Peninsula is 
free, France is our ally. The hapless house which gave 
birth to Jacobinism is extinct for ever. The Pope has 
been found not only not hostile, but complying. Indeed, 
if England would recollect the share you had in these 
sublime events, the very recollection should subsidize her 
into gratitude. But should she not — should she* with a 
baseness monstrous and unparalleled, forget our servi- 
ces, she has still to study a tremendous lesson. The an- 
cient order of Europe, it is true, is restored, but what 
restored it ? Coalition after coalition had crumbled away 
before the might of the conqueror ; crowns were but 
ephemeral ; monarchs only the tenants of an hour; the 
descendant of Frederick dwindled into a vassal ; the heir 
of Peter shrunk into the recesses of his frozen desert ; 
the successor of Charles roamed a vagabond, not only 
throneless but houseless ; every evening sun set upon a 

change; every morning dawned upon some new convul- 

G 



50 



SPEECH 



sion : in short, the whole political globe quivered as 
with an earthquake, and who could tell what venerable 
monument was next to shiver beneath the splendid, fright- 
ful, and reposeless heavings of the French volcano ! 
What gave Europe peace and England safety amid this 
palsy of her Princes ? Was it not the Landwehr and 
the Landsturm and the Levy en Masse ? Was it not tin* 
People ? — that first and last, and best and noblest, as 
well as safest security of a virtuous government. It is 
a glorious lesson ; she ought to study it in this hour of 
safety ; but should she not — 

" Oh wo be to the Prince who rules by fear, 
When danger comes upon him 1" 

She will adopt it. I hope it from her wisdom ; I expect 
it from her policy ,• I claim it from her justice ; I de- 
mand it from her gratitude. She must at length see 
that there is a gross mistake in the management of Ire- 
land. No wise man ever yet imagined injustice to be 
his interest ; and the minister who thinks he serves a 
state by upholding the most irritating and the most im- 
pious of all monopolies, will one day or other find him- 
self miserably mistaken. This system of persecution is 
not the way to govern this country ; at least to govern 
it with any happiness to itself, or advantage to its rulers. 
Centuries have proved its total inefficiency, and if it be 
continued for centuries, the proofs will be but multiplied. 
Why, however, should I blame the English people, when 
I see our own representatives so shamefully negligent of 



AT CORK. K4 

our interest ? The other day, for instance, when Mr. 
Peele introduced, aye, aud passed too, his three newly- 
invented penal bills^ to the necessity of which, every 
assizes in Ireland, and as honest a judge as ever dignified 
or redeemed the ermine, has given the refutation ; why 
was it that no Irish member rose in his place to vindi- 
cate his country? Where were the nominal representa- 
tives of Ireland ? Where were the renegade revilers of 
the demagogue ? Where were the noisy proclaimers of 
the board ? What, was there not one voice to own the 
country? Was the patriot of 1782 an assenting audi- 
tor ? Were our hundred itinerants mute and motionless 
— 1 < quite chop-fallen ?" or is it only when Ireland is 
slandered and her motives misrepresented, and her op- 
pressions are basely and falsely denied, that their venal 
throats are ready to echo the chorus of ministerial ca- 
lumny ? Oh, I should not have to ask those questions, 
if in the late contest for this city, you had prevailed, 
and sent Hctchinsoj* into Parliament: he would have 
risen, though alone, as I have often seen him — richer not 
less in hereditary fame, than in personal accomplish- 
ments ; the ornament of Ireland as she is, the solitary 
remnant of what she was. If slander dare asperse her, 
it would not have done so with impunity. He would 
have encouraged the timid ; he would have shamed the 
recreant ; and though he could not save us from chains, 
he would at least have shielded us from calumny. Let 
me hope that his absence shall be but of short duration, 
and that this city will earn an additional claim to the 



52 



SPEECH AT CORK. 



gratitude of the country, by electing him her representa- 
tive. I scarcely know him hut as a public man, an 1 
considering the state to which we are reduced by the 
apostacy of some, and the ingratitude of others, and ve- 
nality of more, — I say you should inscribe the conduct of 
such a man in the manuals of your devotion, and in iiie 
primers of your children, but above all, you should act 
on it yourselves. Let me intreat of you, above all things 
to sacrifice any personal differences amongst yourselves, 
for the great cause in which you are embarked. Re- 
member^ the contest is for your children, your country, 
and your God; and remember also, that the day of 
Irish union will be the natal day of Irish liberty. When 
your own Parliament (which I trust in Heaven we may 
yet see again) voted you the right of franchise, and the 
right of purchase, it gave you, if you are not false to 
yourselves, a certainty of your emancipation. My 
friends, farewell I This has been a most unexpected 
meeting to me ; it has been our first — it may be our 
last. I can never forget the enthusiasm of this recep- 
tion. I am too much affected by it to make professions ; 
but, believe me, no matter where I may be driven by the 
whim of my destiny, you shall find me one, in whom 
change of place shall create no change of principle j one 
whose memory must perish ere he forgets his country : 
whose heart must be cold when it beats not for her happi- 
ness. 



A SPEECH 

DELIVERED AT A DINNER, GIVEN ON 

D1NAS ISLAND, 

LDT THE LAKE OF KILLAR.VEF, 
ON 

WR. PHILLIPS* HEALTH BEING GIVEN, TOGETHER WITH 
THAT OF MR. PAYNE, A YOUNG AMERICAN. 



IT is not with the rain hope of returning by words 
the kindnesses which have been literally showered on me 
during the short period of our acquaintance, that I now 
interrupt, for a moment, the flow of your festivity. In- 
deed, it is not necessary ,• an Irishman needs no requital 
for liis hospitality ; its generous impulse is the instinct 
of his nature, and the very consciousness of the act car- 
ries its recompense along with it. But, Sir, there are 
sensations excited by an allusion in your toast, under the 
influence of which silence would be impossible. To be 
associated with Mr. Payne must be, to any one who re- 
gards private virtues and personal accomplishments, a 



54 SPEECH 

source of peculiar pride ; and that feeling is not a little 
enhanced in me by a recollection of the country to which 
we are indebted for his qualifications. Indeed, the men- 
tion of America has never failed to fill me with the most 
lively emotions. In my earliest infancy, that tender 
season when impressions, at once the most permanent 
and the most powerful, are likely to be excited, the story 
of her then recent struggle raised a throb in every heart 
that loved liberty, and wrung a reluctant tribute even 
from discomfited oppression. I saw her spurning alike 
the luxuries that would enervate, and the legions that 
would intimidate ; dashing from her lips the poisoned 
cup of European servitude ; and, through all the vicis- 
situdes of her protracted conflict, displaying a magnani- 
mity that defied misfortune, and a moderation that gave 
new grace to victory. It was the first vision of my child- 
hood ; it will descend with me to the grave. But if, as a 
man, I venerate the mention of America, what must be 
my feelings towards her as an Irishman. Never, oh 
never, while memory remains, can Ireland forget the 
home of her emigrant, and the asylum of her exile. No 
matter whether their sorrows sprung from the errors 
of enthusiasm? or the realities of suffering, from fancy 
or infliction ; that must be reserved for the scrutiny of 
those whom the lapse of time shall acquit of partiality. 
It is for the men of other ages to investigate and record 
it ; but surely it is for the men of every age to hail the 
hospitality that received the shelterless, and love th« 
feeling that befriended the unfortunate. Search creation 



AT DIXAS ISLAND. 



55 



round, where can you find a country that presents so 
sublime a view, so interesting an anticipation I W hat 
noble institutions ! What a comprehensive policy ! 
What a wis- equalization of every political advantage ! 
The oppressed of all countries, the martyrs of every 
creed, the innocent victim of despotic arrogance or su- 
perstitious phrensy, may there find refuge; his industry 
encouraged, his piety respected, his ambition animated; 
with no restraint but those laws which are the same to 
ali. and no distinction but that which his merit may ori- 
ginate. Who can deny that the existence of such a 
country presents a subject for human congratulation ! 
Who can deny, that its gigantic advancement eft'ers a 
field for the most rational conjecture ! At the end of the 
very next century, if she proceeds as she seems to pro- 
mise, what a wondrous spectacle may she not exhibit ! 
Who shall say for what purpose a mysterious Providence 
may not have designed her ! Who shall say that when, 
in its follies or its crimes, the old world may have inter- 
red all the pride of its power, and all the pomp of its 
civilization, human nature may not find its destined re- 
novation in the new! For myself. I have no doubt of 
it. I have not the least doubt that when our temples and 
our trophies shall have mouldered into dust— when the 
glories of our name shall be but the legend of tradition, 
and the light of our achievements only live in song; 
philosophy will rise again in the sky of her Franklin, 
and glory rekindle at the urn of her Washington. Is 
this the vision of a romantic fancy ? Is it even impro- 



56 



SPEECH 



bable ? Is it half so improbable as the events which for 
the last twenty years have rolled like successive tides 
over the surface of the European world, each erasing 
the impressions that preceded it I Thousands upon 
thousands, Sir, I know there are, who will consider this 
supposition as wild and whimsical ; but they have dwelt 
with little reflection upon the records of the past. They 
have but ill observed the never-ceasing progress of na- 
tional rise and national ruin. They form their judg- 
ment on the deceitful stability of the present hour, never 
considering the innumerable monarchies and republics, 
In former days, apparently as permanent, their very ex- 
istence become now the subjects of speculation, I had 
almost said of scepticism. I appeal to History ! TeH 
roe, thou reverend chronicler of the grave, can all the 
illusions of ambition realized, can all the wealth of a uni- 
versal commerce, can all the achievements of successful 
heroism, or all the establishments of this worlds wisdom, 
secure to empire the permanency of its possessions ? 
Alas, Troy thought so once ; yet the land of Priam lives 
only in song ! Thebes thought so once, yet her hundred 
gates have crumbled, and her very tombs are but as the 
dust they were vainly intended to commemorate I So 
thought Palmyra — where is she ? So thought Persepolis, 
and now — 

«* Yon waste, where roaming lions howl, 

Yon aisle, where moans the gray-eyed owl, 

Shows the proud Persian's great abode, 

Where sceptred once, an earthly god, 

His power-clad arm controlled each happier clime, 

Where sports the warbling muse, and fancy soars subiimet * 



AT DES'AS ISLAND. 



5? 



So thought the countries of Demosthenes and the Spar- 
tan, yet Leonidas is trampled by the timid slave, and 
Athens insulted by the servile, mindless, and enervate 
Ottoman ! In his hurried inarch, Time has but looked 
at their imagined immortality, and all its vanities, from 
the palace to the tomb, have, with their ruins, erased the 
very impression of his footsteps ! The days of their glo- 
ry are as if they had never been ; and the island that 
was then a speck, rude and neglected in the barren ocean 
now rivals the ubiquity of their commerce, the glory of 
their arms, the fame of their philosophy, the eloquence 
of their senate, and the inspiration of their bards ! Who 
shall say, then, contemplating the past, that England, 
proud and potent as she appears, may not one day be 
what Athens is, and the young America yet soar to be 
what Athens was ! Who shall say, when the European 
column shall have mouldered, and the night of barbarism 
obscured its very ruins, that that mighty continent may 
not emerge from the horizon, to rule for its time sove- 
reign of the ascendant ! 

Such, Sir, is the natural progress of human operations, 
and such the unsubstantial mockery of human pride, 
But I should, perhaps, apologize for this digression, 
The tombs are at best a sad although an instructive sub- 
ject. At all events, they are ill suited to such an hour 
as this. I shall endeavour to atone for it, by turning to 
a theme which tombs cannot inurn or revolution al er. 
It is the custom of your board, and a noble one it is, to 

deck the cup of the gay with the garland of the great; 

H 



58 



SPEECH 



and surely, even in the eyes of its deity, his grape is not 
tl;e less lovely when glowing beneath the foliage of the 
palm-tree and the myrtle.— Allow me to add one flower 
to the chaplet, which, though it sprang in America, is no 
exotic. Virtue planted it, and it is naturalized every 
where. I see you anticipate me— I see you concur with 
me, that it matters very little what immediate spot may 
be the birth-place of such a man as Washington. No 
people can claim, no country can appropriate him ; the 
boon of Providence to the human race, his fame is eter- 
nity, and his residence creation. Though it was the de- 
feat of our arms, and the disgrace of our policy, I almost 
bless the convulsion in which he had his origin. If the 
heavens thundered and the earth rocked, yet, when the 
storm passed how pure was the climate that it cleared; 
how bright in the brow of the firmament was the planet 
which it revealed to us ! In the production of Wash- 
ington, it does really appear as if nature was endeavour- 
ing to improve upon herself, and that all the virtues of 
the ancient world were but so many studies preparatory 
to the patriot of the new. Individual instances no doubt 
there were ; splendid exemplifications of some single 
qualification ; Csesar was merciful, Scipio was continent, 
Hannibal was patient ; but it was reserved for Wash- 
ington to blend them all in one, and like the lovely chef 
(Vczuvre of the Grecian artist, to exhibit in one glow of 
Associated beauty, the pride of every model, and the per- 
fection of every master. As a General, he marshalled 
the peasant into a veteran, and supplied by discipline 



AT DINAS ISLAND. ^g 

the absence of experience; as a statesman, he enlarged 
the policy of the cabinet into the most comprehensive 
system of general advantage; and such was the wisdom 
of his views, and the philosophy of his counsels, that to 
the soldier and the statesman he almost added the cha- 
racter of the sage ! A conqueror, he was untainted with 
the crime of blood ; a revolutionist, he was free from 
any stain of treason; for aggression commenced the 
contest, and his country called him to the command. — 
Liberty unsheathed his sword, necessity stained, victory 
returned it. If he had paused here, history might have 
doubted what station to assign him, whether at the head 
of her citizens or her soldiers, her heroes, or her patri- 
ots. But the last glorious act crowns his career, and 
banishes all hesitation. Who, like Washington, after 
having emancipated a hemisphere, resigned its crown 
and preferred the retirement of domestic life to the 
adoration of a land he might be almost said to have 
created ! 



" How shall we rank thee upon Glory's page, 
Thou more than soldier and just less than sage $ 
All thou hast been reflects less fame on thee, 
Far less than all thou hast forborne to be !" 

Such, Sir, is the testimony of one not to be accused 
of partiality in his estimate of America. Happy, proud 
America ! the lightnings of heaven yielded to your 



60 



SPEECH AT DINAS ISLAND. 



philosophy ! The temptations of earth could not seduce 
your patriotism ! 

I have the honour, Sir, of proposing to you as a 
toast, the immortal memory of George Washing- 
ton I 



A SPEECH 



DELIVERED AT 

AN AGGREGATE MEETING 

OF 

THE ROMAN CATHOLICS 

OF THE COUNTY AND CITY OF DUBLIN. 



HAVING taken, in the discussions on your question, 
such humble share as was allotted to my station and 
capacity, I may be permitted to offer my ardent congra- 
tulations at the proud pinnacle on which it this day 
reposes. After having combated calumnies the most 
atrocious, sophistries the most plausible, and perils the 
most appalling, that slander could invent, or ingenuity 
devise, or power array against you, I at length behold 
the assembled rank and wealth and talent of the Catho- 
lic body offering to the legislature that appeal which 
cannot be rejected, if there be a Power in heaven to 
redress injury, or a spirit on earth to administer justice. 
No matter what may be the depreciations of faction or 
of bigotry - 9 this earth never presented a more ennobling 



62 



SPEECH 



spectacle than that of a Christian country suffering for 
her religion with the patience of a martyr, and suing for 
her liberties with the expostulations of a philosopher $ 
reclaiming the bad by her piety ; refuting the bigoted by 
her practice ; wielding the Apostle's weapons in the pa- 
triot's cause, and at length, laden with chains and with 
laurels, seeking from the country she had saved the 
Constitution she had shielded ! Little did I imagine, 
that in such a state of your cause, we should be called 
together to counteract the impediments to its success, 
created not by its enemies, but by those supposed to be 
its friends. It is a melancholy occasion ,* but melan- 
choly as it is, it must be met, and met with the fortitude 
of men struggling in the sacred cause of liberty. I do 
not allude to the proclamation of your Board; of that 
Board I never was a member, so I can speak impar- 
tially. It contained much talent, some learning, many 
virtues. It was valuable on that account ; but it was* 
doubly valuable as being a vehicle for the individual 
sentiments of any Catholic, and for the aggregate sen- 
timents of every Catholic. Those who seceded from it, 
do not remember that, individually, they are nothing ; 
that as a body, they are every thing. It is not this 
wealthy slave, or that titled sycophant, whom the bigots 
dread, or the parliament respects ! No, it is the body, 
the numbers, the rank, the property, the genius, the per- 
severance, the education, but, above all, the Union of the 
Catholics. I am far from defending every measure of 
the Board — perhaps I condemn some of its measures even 



AT DUBLIN". 



63 



more than those who have seceded from it ; but is it a 
reason, if a general makes one mistake, that his fol- 
lowers are to desert him, especially when the contest is 
for all that is dear or valuable ? No doubt the Board 
had its errors. Show me the human institution which 
has not. Let the man, then, who denounces it, prove 
himself superior to humanity, before he triumphs in his 
accusation. I am sorry for its suppression. When I 
consider the animals who are in office around us, the act 
does not surprise me; but I confess, even from them, 
the manner did, and the time chosen did, most sensibly, 
I did not expect it on the very hour when the news of 
universal peace was first promulgated, and on the an- 
niversary of the only British monarch's birth, who ever 
gave a boon to this distracted country. 

You will excuse this digression, rendered indeed in 
some degree necessary. I shall now confine myself 
exclusively to your resolution, which determines on the 
immediate presentation of your petition, and censures 
the neglect of any discussion on it by your advocates 
during the last session of Parliament. You have a 
right to demand most fully the reasons of any man who 
dissents from Mr. Grattan. I will give you mine ex- 
plicitly. But I shall first state the reasons which he has 
given for the postponement of your question. I shall 
do so out of respect to him, if indeed it can be called 
respect to quote those sentiments, which on their very 
mention must excite your ridicule. Mr. Grattan pre- 
sented your petition, and, on moving that it should lie 



qq SPEECH 

where so many preceding ones have lain, namely, on the 
table, he declared it to be his intention to move for no 
discussion. Here, in the first place, I think Mr. Grat- 
tan wrong ; he got that petition, if not on the express, 
at least on the implied condition of having it immedi- 
ately discussed. There was not a man at the aggregate 
meeting at which it was adopted, who did not expect a 
discussion on the very first opportunity. Mr. Grattan, 
however, was angry at " suggestions." I do not think 
Mr. Grattan, of all men, had any right to be so angry 
at receiving that which every English member was wil- 
ling to receive, and was actually receiving from an En- 
glish corn-factor. Mr. Grattan was also angry at our 
<c violence." Neither do I think he had any occasion to 
be so squeamish at what he calls our violence. There 
was a day, when Mr. Grattan would not have spurned 
our suggestions, and there was also a day when he was 
fifty-fold more intemperate than any of his oppressed 
countrymen, whom he now holds up to the English peo- 
ple as so unconstitutionally violent. A pretty way for- 
sooth, for your advocate to commence conciliating a 
foreign auditory in favour of your petition. Mr. Grat- 
tan, however, has fulfilled his own prophecy, that '« an 
oak of the forest is too old to be transplanted at fifty ," 
and our fears that an Irish native would soon lose its 
raciness in an English atmosphere. <l It is not my in- 
tention," says he, " to move for a discussion at present." 
"Why ? * Great obstacles have been removed." That's 
his first reason. " I am, however," says he, " still ar- 



AT DUBL1X. 



65 



dent." Ardent! Why it strikes me to be a very novel 
kind of ardour, which toils till it has removed every 
impediment, and then pauses at the prospect of its victo- 
ry ! to And I am of opinion," he continues, " that any 
immediate discussion would be the height of precipita- 
tion :" that is, after having removed the impediments, 
he pauses in his path, declaring he is " ardent :" and 
after centuries of suffering, when you press for a dis- 
cussion, he protests that he considers you monstrously 
precipitate ! Now is not that a fair translation ? Why 
really if we did not know Mr. Grattan, we should be 
almost tempted to think that he was quoting from the 
ministry. With the exception of one or two plain, 
downright, sturdy, unblushing bigots, who opposed you 
because you were Christians, and declared they did so, 
this was the cant of every man who affected liberality. 
" Oh, I declare," they say, u they may not be cannibals, 
though they are Catholics, and I would be very glad to 
vote for them, but this is no time," " Oh no," says 
Bragge Bathurst, " it's no time. What ! in time of war ! 
Why it looks like bullying us !" Very well : next 
comes the peace, and what say our friends the Opposi- 
tion ? to Oh ! I declare peace is no time, it looks so like 
persuading us." For my part, serious as the subject is, 
it affects me with the very same ridicule with which I 
see I have so unconsciously affected you. I will tell you 
a story of which it reminds me. It is told of the cele- 
brated Charles Fox. Far be it from me, however, to 

mention that name with levity. As he was a great 

I 



66 



SPEECH 



man, I revere him ; as he was a good man, I love him. 
He had as wise a head as ever paused to deliberate ; he 
had as sweet a tongue as ever gave the words of wisdom 
utterance ; and he had a heart so stamped with the im- 
mediate impress of the Divinity, that its very errors 
might be traced to the excess of its benevolence. I had 
almost forgot the story. Fox was a man of genius — of 
course he was poor. Poverty is a reproach to no man ; 
to such a man as Fox, I think it was a pride; for if he 
chose to traffic with his principles ; if he chose to gamble 
with, his conscience, how easily might he have been rich ? 
I guessed your answer. It would be hard, indeed, if 
you did not believe that in England talents might find a 
purchaser, who have seen in Ireland how easily a block- 
head may swindle himself into preferment. Juvenal 
says that the greatest misfortune attendant upon poverty 
is ridicule. Fox found out a greater — debt The Jews 
called on him for payment. «' Ah, my dear friends," 
says Fox, # I admit the principle ; I owe you money, 
but what time is this, when I am going upon business." 
Just so our friends admit the principle ; they owe you 
emancipation, but war's no time. Well, the Jews de- 
parted just as you did. They returned to the charge : 
*' What : (cries Fox,) is this a time, when I am engaged 
on an appointment \" What ! say our friends, is this a 
time when all the world's at peace. The Jews depart- 
ed ; but the end of it was, Fox, with his secretary, Mr. 
Hare, who was as much in debt as he was, shut them- 
selves up in garrison. The Jews used to surround his 



AT DUBLIN. 



67 



habitation at day light, and poor Fox regularly put his 
head out of the window, with this question. Gentlemen, 
are you Foxhunting or Mire-hunting this morning V* 
His pleasantry mitigated the very Jews. " Well, well, 
Fox, now you have always admitted the principle, but 
protested against the time — we will give you your own 
time, only just fix some final day for our repayment." — 
" Ah, my dear Moses," replies Fox, <•< now this is 
friendly. I will take you at your word ; I will fix a 
day, and as it's to be a final day, what would you think 
of the day of judgment ?" — That will be too busy a day 
with us." — " Well, well, in order to accommodate all 
parties, let us settle the day after" Thus it is, between 
the war inexpediency of Bragge Bathurst, and the peace 
inexpediency of Mr, Grattan, you may expect your 
emancipation bill pretty much about the time that Fox 
settled for the payment of his creditors. Mr. Grattan, 
however, though he scorned to take your suggestions, 
took the suggestions of your friends. '< I have consult- 
ed," says he, « my right honourable friends 1" Oh, all 
friends, all right honourable ! Now this it is to trust the 
interests of a people into the hands of a party. You 
must know, in parliamentary parlance, these right ho- 
nourable friends mean a party. There are few men 
so contemptible, as not to have a party. The minister 
has his party. The opposition have their party. The 
Saints, for there are Saints in the House of Commons, 
lucus a non lucendo 9 the saints have their party. Every 
one has his party. 1 had forgotten — Ireland has no 



gg SPEECH. 

party. Such are the reasons, if reasons they can be 
called, which Mr. Grattan has given for the postpone- 
ment of your question; and I sincerely say, if they had 
come from any other man, I would not have conde- 
scended to have given them an answer. He is indeed 
reported to have said that he had others in reserve, 
which he did not think it necessary to detail. If those 
which he reserved were like those which he delivered, I 
do not dispute the prudence of his keeping them to him- 
self; but as we have not the gift of prophecy, it is not 
easy for us to answer them, until he shall deign to give 
them to his constituents. 

Having dealt thus freely with the alleged reasons for 
the postponement, it is quite natural that you should re- 
quire what my reasons are for urging the discussion. I 
shall give them candidly. They are at once so simple 
and explicit, it is quite impossible that the meanest capa- 
city amongst you should^not comprehend them. I would 
urge the instant discussion, because discussion has al- 
ways been of use to you ; because, upon every discussion 
you have gained converts out of doors ; and because, 
upon every discussion within the doors of parliament, 
your enemies have diminished, and your friends have 
increased. Now, is not that a strong reason for conti- 
nuing your discussions ? This may be assertion. Aye, 
but I will prove it. In order to convince you of the ar- 
gument as referring to the country, I need but point to 
the state of the public mind now upon the subject, and 
that which existed in ftic memory of the youngest. I 



AT DUBLIN 



69 



myself remember the blackest and the basest universal 
denunciations against your creed, and the vilest anathe- 
mas against any man who would grant you an iota. *Vow, 
every man affects to be liberal, and the only question with 
some is the time of the concessions ; with others, the ex- 
tent of the concessions ; with many, the'nature of the se- 
curities you should afford j whilst a great multitude, in 
which I am proud to class myself, think that your eman- 
cipation should be immediate, universal, and unre- 
stricted. Such has been the progress of the human mind 
out of doors, in consequence of the powerful eloquence, 
argument, and policy elicited by those discussions which 
your friends now have, for the first time, found out to be 
precipitate. Now let us see what has been the effect 
produced within the doors of Parliament. For twenty 
years you were silent, and of course you were neglected," 
The consequence was most natural. Why should Par- 
liament grant privileges to men who did not think those 
privileges worth the solicitation ? Then rose your agita- 
tors, as they are called by those bigots who are tremb- 
ling at the effect of their arguments on the community, 
and who, as a matter of course, take every opportunity 
of calumniating them. Ever since that period your cause 
has been advancing. Take the numerical proportions 
in the house of Commons on each subsequent discussion. 
In 1805, the first time it was brought forward in the Im- 
perial legislature, and it was then aided by the power- 
ful eloquence of Fox, there was a majority against even 
taking your claims into consideration, of no less a number 



70 



SPEECH 



than 212. It was an appalling omen. In 1808, how- 
ever, on the next discussion, that majority was dimi- 
nished to 163. In 1810 it decreased to 104. In 1811 it 
dwindled to 64, and at length in 1812, on the motion of 
Mr. Canning, and it is not a little remarkable that the 
first successful exertion in your favour was made by an 
English member, your enemies fled the field, and you 
had the triumphant majority to support you of 129 ! Now, 
is not this demonstration? What becomes now of those 
who say discussion lias not been of use to you? But I 
need not have resorted to arithmetical calculation. Men 
become ashamed of combating with axioms. Truth is 
omnipotent, and must prevail ; it forces its way with the 
fire and the precision of the morning sun-beam. Vapours 
may impede the infancy of its progress ; hut the very 
resistance that would check only condenses and concen- 
trates it, until at length it goes forth in the fulness of its 
meridian, all life and light and lustre — the minutest ob- 
jects visible in its refulgence. You lived for centuries on 
the vegetable diet and eloquent silence of this Pythago- 
rean policy ; and the consequence was, when you thought 
yourselves mightily dignified, and mightily interesting, 
the whole world was laughing at your philosophy, and 
sending its aliens to take possession of your birth- 
right. I have given you a good reason for urging your 
discussion, by having shown you that discussion has 
always gained you proselytes. But is it the time? says 
Mr. Grattan. Yes, Sir, it is the time, peculiarly the time, 
unless indeed the great question of Irish liberty is to be 



AT DUBLIN. 



71 



reserved as a weapon in the hands of a party to wield 
against the weakness of the British minister. But why 
should I delude you by talking about time! Oh ! there 
will never be a time with Bigotry ! She has no head, 
and cannot think ; she has no heart, and cannot feel; 
when she moves, it is in wrath ; when she pauses, it is 
amid ruin ; her prayers are curses, her communion is 
death, her vengeance is eternity, her decalogue is written 
in the blood of her victims ; and if she stoops for a mo- 
ment from her infernal flight, it is upon some kindred 
rock to whet her vulture fang for keener rapine, and re- 
plume her wing for a more sanguinary desolation ! I ap- 
peal from this infernal, grave^talled fury, I appeal to 
the good sense, to the policy, to the gratitude of En- 
gland ; and I make my appeal peculiarly at this moment, 
when all the illustrious potentates of Europe are assembled 
together in the British capital, to hold the great festival 
of universal peace and universal emancipation. Perhaps 
when France, flushed with success, fired by ambition, 
and infuriated by enmity ; her avowed aim an universal 
conquest, her means the confederated resources of the 
Continent, her guide the greatest military genius a nation 
fertile in prodigies has produced — a man who seemed 
born to invest what had been regular, to defile what had 
been venerable, to crush what had been established, and 
to create, as if by a magic impulse, a fairy world, peo- 
pled by the paupers he had commanded into kings, and 
based by the thrones he had crumbled in his caprices — 
perhaps when such a power, so led, so organised, and so 



73 



SPEECH 



incited, was in its noon of triumph, the timid might trem- 
ble even at the charge that would save, or the concession 
that would strengthen. — But now, — her allies faithless, 
her conquests despoiled, her territory dismembered, her 
legions defeated, her leader dethroned, and her reigning 
prince our ally by treaty, our debtor by gratitude, and 
our alienable friend by every solemn obligation of civi- 
lized society, — the objection is our strength, and the ob- 
stacle our battlement. Perhaps when the Pope was in 
the power of our enemy, however slender the pretext, 
bigotry might have rested on it. The inference was false 
as to Ireland, and it was ungenerous as to Rome. The 
Irish Catholic, firm in hjfcfaith, bows to the pontiff's 
spiritual supremacy, but he would spurn the pontiff's tern* 
poral interference. If, with the spirit of an earthly do- 
mination, he were to issue to morrow his despotic man- 
date, Catholic Ireland with one voice would answer him: 
<l Sire, we bow with reverence to your spiritual mission : 
the descendant of Saint Peter, we freely acknowledge 
you the head of our church, and the organ of our creed : 
but, Sire, if we have a church, we cannot forget that w r e 
also have a country ; and when you attempt to convert 
your mitre into a crown, and your crozier into a sceptre, 
you degrade the majesty of your high delegation, and 
grossly miscalculate upon our acquiescence. No foreign 
power shall regulate the allegiance which we owe to our 
sovereign ; it was the fault of our fathers that one Pope 
forged our fetters ; it will be our own, if we allow them 
to be riveted by another." Such would be the answer of 



AT DUBLIN, 



73 



universal Ireland; such was her answer to the auda- 
cious menial, who dared to dictate her unconditional sub- 
mission to an act of Parliament which emancipated by 
penalties, and redressed by insult. But, Sir, it never 
would have entered into the contemplation of the Pope to 
have assumed such an authority. His character was a 
sufficient shield against the imputation, and his policy 
must have taught him, that, in grasping at the shadow of 
a temporal power, he should but risk the reality of his 
ecclesiastical supremacy. Tims was Parliament doubly 
guarded against a foreign usurpation. The people upon 
whom it was to act depricate its authority, and the power 
to which it was imputed abhors its ambition ; the Pope 
would not exert it if he could, and the people would not 
obey it if he did. Just precisely upon the same founda- 
tion rested the aspersions which were cast upon your 
creed. How did experience justify them ? Did Lord 
Wellington find that religious faith made any difference 
amid the thunder of the battle ? Did the Spanish soldier 
desert his colours because his General believed not in 
the real presence? Did the brave Portuguese neglect his 
orders to negociate about mysteries ? Or what compari- 
son did the hero draw between the policy of England 
and the piety of Spain, when at one moment he led the 
heterodox legions to victory, and the very next was 
obliged to fly from his own native flag, waving defiance 
on the walls of Borgos, where the Irish exile planted 
and sustained it ? What must he have felt when in a fo- 
reign land he was obliged to command brother against 

K 



74 



SPEECH 



brother, to raise the sword of blood, and drown the cries 
of nature with the artillery of death ? What were the 
sensations of our hapless exiles, when they recognized 
the features of their long-lost country ? when they heard 
the accents of the tongue they loved, or caught the ca- 
dence of the simple melody which once lulled them to 
sleep within a mother's arms, and cheered the darling 
circle they must behold no more ? Alas, how the poor 
banished heart delights in the memory that song asso- 
ciates ! He heard it in happier days, when the parents 
he adored, the maid he loved, the friends of his soul, and 
the green fields of his infancy were round him ; when 
his labours were illumined with the sun-shine of the heart, 
and his humble hut was a palace — for it was home. His 
soul is full, his eye suffused, he bends from the battle- 
ments to catch the cadence, when his death-shot, sped by 
a brother's hand, lays him in his grave — the victim of a 
code calling itself Christian ! Who shall say, heart-rend- 
ing as it is, this picture is from fancy ? Has it not oc- 
curred in Spain ? May it not, at this instant, be acting 
in America ? Is there any country in the universe, in 
which these brave exiles of a barbarous bigotry are not 
to be found refuting the calumnies that banished and re- 
warding the hospitality that received them ? Yet England, 
enlightened England, who sees them in every field of 
the old world and the new, defending the various flags of 
every faith, supports the injustice of her exclusive consti- 
tution, by branding upon them the ungenerous accusation 
of an exclusive creed ! England, the ally of Catholic 



AT DUBLN. 



75 



Portugal, the ally of Catholic Spain, the ally of Catho- 
lic France, the Friend of the Pope I England, who seated 
a Catholic bigot in Madrid ! who convoyed a Catholic 
Braganza to the Brazils .' who enthroned a Catholic 
Bourbon in Paris! who guaranteed a Catholic establish- 
ment in Canada ! who gave a constitution to Catholic 
Hanover ! England, who searches the globe for Ca- 
tholic grievances to redress, and Catholic Princes 
to restore, will not trust the Catholic at home, who 
spends his blood and treasure in her service ! ! Is this 
generous ? Is this consistent ? Is it just ? Is it even po- 
lite ? Is it the act of a wise country to fetter the energies 
of an entire population ? Is it the act of a Christian coun- 
try to do it in the name of God ? Is it politic in a govern- 
ment to degrade part of the body by which it is supported, 
or pious to make Providence a party to their degrada- 
tion ? There are societes in England for discountenanc- 
ing vice ; there are Christian associations for distribut- 
ing the Bible ; there are voluntary missions for convert- 
ing the heathen : but Ireland the seat of their govern- 
ment, the stay of their empire, their associate by all the 
ties of nature and of interest ; how she has benefited 
by the Gospel of which they boast ? Has the sweet spirit 
of Christianity appeared on our plains in the character 
of her precepts, breathing the air and robed in the beau- 
ties of the world to which she would lead us ; with no 
argument but love, no look but peace, no wealth but piety ; 
her creed comprehensive as the arch of heaven, and hep 
charities bounded but by the circle of creation ? Or, has 



76 



SPEECH 



she been let loose amongst us, in form of fury, and in act 
of demon, her heart festered with the fires of hell, her 
hands clotted with the gore of earth, withering alike in 
her repose and in her progress, her path apparent by the 
print of blood, and her pause denoted by the expanse of 
desolation ? Gospel of Heaven ! is this thy herald ? God 
of the universe ! is this thy hand-maid ? Christian of the 
ascendency ! how would you answer the disbelieving in- 
fidel, if he asked you, should he estimate the Christian 
doctrine by the Christian practice ; if he dwelt upon those 
periods when the human victim writhed upon the altar 
of the peaceful Jesus, and the cross, crimsoned with his 
blood became little better than a stake to the sacrifice of 
his votaries ; if he pointed to Ireland, where the word of 
peace was the war-whoop of destruction ; where the son 
was bribed against the father, and the plunder of the 
parent's property was made a bounty on the recantation 
of the parent's creed ; where the march of the human 
mind was stayed in his name who had inspired it with 
reason, and any effort to liberate a fellow-creature from 
his intellectual bondage was sure to be recompensed by 
the dungeon or the scaffold; where ignorance was so 
long a legislative command, and piety a legislative 
crime ; where religion was placed as a barrier between 
the sexes, and the intercourse of nature was pronounced 
felony by law ; where God's worship was an act of 
stealth, and his ministers sought amongst the savages of 
the woods that sanctuary which a nominal civilization 
had denied them ; where at this instant conscience is 



AT DUBLIN. 



77 



made to blast every hope of genius, and every energy 
of ambition, and the Catholic who would rise to any sta- 
tion of trust, must in the face of his country, deny the 
faith of his fathers ; where the preferments of earth are 
only to be obtained by the forfeiture of Heaven ? 

" Unprized are her sons till they learn to betray, 
Undistinguish'd they live if they shame not their sires ; 
And the torch that would light them to dignity's way, 
Must be caught from the pile where their country expires !" 

How, let me ask, how would the Christian zealot droop 
beneath this catalogue of Christian qualifications ? But, 
thus it is, when sectarians differ on account of mysteries; 
in the heat and acrimony of the causeless contest, reli- 
gion, the glory of one world, and the guide of another, 
drifts from the splendid circle in which she shone, in the 
comet-maze of uncertainty and error. The code, against 
which you petition, is a vile compound of impiety and 
impolicy : impiety, because it debases in the name of 
God ; impolicy, because it disqualifies under pretence of 
government. If we are to argue from the services of 
Protestant Ireland, to the losses sustained by the bon- 
dage of Catholic Ireland, and I do not see why we should 
not, the state which continues such a system is guilty of 
little less than a political suicide. It matters little where 
the Protestant Irishman has been employed; whether 
with Burke wielding the senate with his eloquence, with 
Castlereagh guiding the cabinet by his counsels, with 
Barry enriching the arts by his pencil, with Swift adorn- 
ing literature by his genius, with Goldsmith or with 



78 



SPEECH 



Moore softening the heart by their melody, or with 
Wellington changing victory at his car, he may boldly 
challenge the competition of the world. Oppressed and 
impoverished as our country is, every muse has cheered, 
and every art adorned, and every conquest crowned her. 
Plundered, she was not poor, for her character enriched ; 
attainted, she was not titleless, for her services ennobled ; 
literally outlawed into eminence and fettered into fame, 
the fields of her exile were immortalized by her deeds, 
and the links of her chain became decorated by her lau- 
rels. Is this fancy, or is it fact ? Is there a department 
in the state in which Irish genius does not possess a pre- 
dominance ? Is there a conquest which it does not achive, 
or a dignity which it does not adorn ? At this instant, is 
there a country in the world to which England has not 
deputed an Irishman as her representative? She has sent 
Lord Moira to India, Sir Gore Ouseley to Ispahan, 
Lord Stuart to Vienna, Lord Castlereagh to Congress, 
Sir Henry Wellesley to Madrid, Mr. Canning to Lis- 
bon, Lord Strangford to the Brazils, Lord Clancarty to 

Holland, Lord Wellington to Paris all Irishmen ! 

Whether it results from accident or from merit, can there 
be a more cutting sarcasm on the policy of England ! Is 
it not directly saying to her, l( Here is a country from 
one fifth of whose people you depute the agents of your 
most august delegation, the remaining four-fifths of 
which by your odious bigotry, you incapacitate from 
any station of office or of trust !" It is adding all that is 
weak in impolicy to all that is wicked in ingratitude. 



AT DUBLIN - . 



79 



What is her apol iH she pretend that the Deity 

imitates her injustice, and incapacitates t; t as 

she has done the creed : After making Providence a pre- 
tence for her code, will she also make it a party to her 
crime, and arraign the universal spirit of partialr 
bis dispensation \ Is she not content with Him as a Pro- 
testant God, unless He also consents to become a Catho- 
lic demon ? But, if the charge were true, if the Irish 
tholic were imbroted and debased, Ireland's conviction 
would be England's crime, and your answer to the bi- 

org should be the bigot's conduct. Wbat,th 
is this the result of six centuries of jour government ? 
Is this the connexion which yon called a benefit to Ire- 
land ? Have your protecting laws so debased them, that the 
Tery privilege of reason is worthless in their possession 2 
Shame ! oh. shame ! to the government where the peo- 
ple are barbarous ? The day is not distant when they 
made the education of a Catholic a crime, and yet they 
arraign the Catholic for ignorance ! The day is not 
distant when they proclaimed the celebration of the Ca- 
tholic worship a felony, and yd (bey snufnaii thai the 
Catholic is not moral! What folly !Ieri - o be expected that 
the people are to emerge in a moment from the stupor of 
a protracted degradation? There is not perhaps to be 
the map of national misfortune a spot so truly 
nmly deplorable as IreL 
lyc bad Hirirnlimhim T:< the borrora ;:: CTofe 
tion. the muMBun of iemmtiam, r he murges :: anarchy, 
they have in their turns been subject nly 



80 



SPEECH 



in their turns ; the visitations of wo, though severe, have- 
not been eternal ; the hour of probation, or of punish- 
ment, has passed away : and the tempest, after having 
emptied the vial of its wrath, has given place to the se 
renity of the calm and of the sunshine. — Has this been 
the case with respect to our miserable country ? Is there, 
save in the visionary world of tradition — is there in the 
progress, either of record or recollection, one verdant 
spot in the desert of our annals where patriotism can 
find repose, or philanthropy refreshment ? Oh, indeed, 
posterity will pause with wonder on the melancholy page 
which shall pourtray the story of a people amongst whom 
the policy of man has waged an eternal warfare with the 
providence of God, blighting into deformity all that was 
beautious, and into famine all that was abundant. I 
repeat, however, the charge to be false. The Catholic 
mind in Ireland has made advances scarcely to be hop- 
ed in the short interval of its partial emancipation. 
But what encouragement has the Catholic parent to edu- 
cate his offspring ? Suppose he sends his son, the hope 
of his pride and the wealth of his heart, into the army; 
the' child justifies his parental anticipation ; he is mo- 
ral in bis habits, he is strict in his discipline, he is 
daring in the field, and temperate at the board, and pa- 
tient in the camp ; the first in the charge, the last in 
the retreat ; with an hand to achieve, and an head to 
guide, and temper to conciliate ; he combines the skill 
of Wellington with the clemency of Caesar and the cou- 
rage of Turenne — yet he can never rise— he is a Catho- 



AT DUBLIN - . 



81 



lie ! — Take another instance. Suppose him at the bar. 
He has spent his nights at the lamp, and his days in the 
forum; the rose has withered from his cheek mid the 
drudgery of form; the spirit has fainted in his heart mid 
the analysis of crime ; he lias foregone the pleasures of 
his youth, and the associates of his heartland all the 
fairy enchantments in which fancy may hare wrapped 
him ? Alas ! for what ? Though genius flashed fronx 
his eye, and eloquence rolled from his lips: though he 
spoke with the tongue of Tully, and argued with the 
learning of Coke, and thought with the purity of 
Fletcher, he can never rise — he is a Catholic I Merci- 
ful God! what a state of society is this, in which thy 
worship is interposed as a disqualification upon thy 
providence ! Behold, in a word, the effects of the code 
against which you petition ; it disheartens exertion, it 
disqualifies merit, it debilitates the state, it degrades the 
Godhead, it disoheys Christianity, it makes religion an 
article of traffic, and its founder a monopoly ; and for 
ages it has reduced a country, blessed with every beauty 
of nature and every bounty of Providence, to a state un- 
paralleled under any constitution professing to be free, 
or any government pretending to be civilized. To jus- 
tify this enormity, there is now no argument. Now is 
the time to concede with dignity that which was never 
denied without injustice. Who can tell how soon we 
may require all the zeal of our united population to se- 
cure our very existence? Who can argue upon the con- 
tinuance of this calm ? Have we not seen the labour of 



gg SPEECH. 

ages overthrown, and the whim of a day erected on its 
ruins; establishments the most solid withering at a 
word, and visions the most whimsical realized as a wish; 
crowns crumbled, discords confederated, kings become 
vagabonds, and vagabonds made kings at the capricious 
phrcnzy of a village adventurer ? Have we not seen the 
whole political and moral world shaking as with an 
earthquake, and shapes the most fantastic and formida- 
ble and frightful heaved into life by the quiverings of 
the convulsion ? The storm has passed over us ; Eng- 
land has survived it ; if she is wise, her present prospe- 
rity will be but the handmaid to her justice ; if she is 
pious, the peril she has escaped will be but the herald of 
her expiation. Thus much have I said in the way of 
argument to the enemies of your question. Let me offer 
a humble opinion to its friends. The first and almost the 
sole request which an advocate would make to you is, to 
remain united; rely on it, a divided assault can never 
overcome a consolidated resistance. I allow that an 
educated aristocracy are as a head to the people, with- 
out which they cannot think ; but then the people are as 
hands to the aristocracy, without which it cannot act. 
Concede, then, a little to even each other's prejudices ; 
recollect that individual sacrifice is universal strength ; 
and can there be a nobler altar than the altar of your 
country ? This same spirit of conciliation should be 
extended even to your enemies. If England will not 
-Consider that a brow of suspicion is but a bad accompa- 
niment to an act of grace ; if she will not allow that 



AT DUBLIN 



83 



kindness may make those friends whom even oppression 
could not make foes ; if she will not confess that the 
best security she ran have from Ireland is by giving 
Ireland an interest in her constitution ; still, since her 
$>ower is the shield of her prejudices, you should concede 
where you cannot conquer ; it is wisdom to yield when 
it has become hopeless to combat. 

There is but one concession which I would never ad- 
vise, and which, were I a Catholic, I would never make. 
You will perceive that I allude to any interference with 
your clergy. That was the crime of Mr. Grattan's se- 
curity bill. It made the patronage of your religion the 
ransom for your liberties, and bought the favour of the 
crown by the surrender of the church. It is a vicious 
principle, it is the cause of all your sorrows. If there 
had not been a state establishment, there would not have 
been a Catholic bondage. By that incestuous conspira- 
cy between the altar and the throne, infidelity has 
achieved a more extended dominion than by all the so- 
phisms of her philosophy, or all the terrors of her per- 
secution. It makes God's apostle a court-appendage, 
and God himself a court-purveyor ; it carves the cross 
into a chair of state, where, with grace on his brow and 
gold in his hand, the little perishable puppet of this 
world's vanity makes Omnipotence a menial to its power, 
and Eternity a pander to its profits. Be not a party to 
it. As you have spurned the temporal interference of 
the Pope, resist the spiritual jurisdiction of the crown. 
As I do not think that you, on the one hand, could stfr- 



84 



SPEECH 



render the patronage of your religion to the King, with- 
out the most unconscientious compromise, so, on tlie" 
other hand, I do not think the King could ever conscien- 
tiously receive it. Suppose he receives it ; it' he exerci- 
ses it for the advantage of your church, he directly 
violates the coronation-oath which binds him to the ex- 
clusive interests of the Church of England ; and if he 
does not intend to exercise it for your advantage, to what 
purpose does he require from you its surrender? But 
what pretence has England for this interference with 
your religion ? It was the religion of her most glorious 
era, it was the religion of her most ennobled patriots, it 
was the religion of the wisdom that framed her constitu- 
tion, it was the religion of the valour that achieved it, it 
would have been to this day the religion of her empire 
had it not been for the lawless lust of a murderous adul- 
terer. What right has she to suspect your church ? 
When her thousand sects were brandishing the frag- 
ments of their faith against each other, and Christ saw 
his garment, without a seam, a piece of patchwork for 
every mountebank who figured in the pantomime ; when 
her Babel tempel rocked at every breath of her Priest- 
leys and her Paynes, Ireland, proof against the menace 
of her power, was proof also against the perilous impiety 
of her example. But if as Catholics you should guard 
it, the palladium of your creed, not less as Irishmen 
should you prize it, the relic of your country. Deluge 
after deluge has desolated her provinces. The monu- 
ments of art which escaped the barbarism of one invader 



■\ 



SPEECH AT DUBLIN. gg 

fell beneath the still more savage civilization of another. 
Alone, amid the solitude, your temple stood like some 
majestic monument amid the desert of antiquity, just in 
its proportions, sublime in its associations, rich in the 
virtue of its saints, cemented by the blood of its martyrs, 
pouring forth for ages the unbroken series of its venera- 
ble hierarchy, and only the more magnificent from the 
ruins by which it was surrounded. Oh ! do not for any 
temporal boon betray the great principles which are to 
purchase you an eternity ! Here, from your very sanc- 
tuary, — here, with my hand on the endangered altars of 
your faith, in the name of that God, for the freedom of 
whose worship we are so nobly struggling ; I conjure 
you, let no unholy hand profane the sacred ark of your 
religion ; preserve it inviolate ; its light is " light from 
heaven;" follow it through all the perils of your jour- 
ney; and, like the fiery pillar of the captive Israel, it 
will cheer the desert of your bondage, and guide te the 
land of your liberation ! 



PETITION 

REFERRED TO IN THE PRECEDING SPEECH, 



DRAWK BY 



MR. PHILLIPS 

AT THE REQUEST OF 

THE ROxMAN CATHOLICS 

OF 

IRELAND. 



To the Honourable the Commons of the United Kingdom 
of Great Britain and Ireland, in Parliament assem- 
bled: 

The humble Petition of the Roman Catholics of Ire- 
land, whose Names are undersigned, on behalf of 
themselves, and others, professing the Roman Ca- 
tholic Religion, 

SHEWETH, 

THAT we, the Roman Catholic people of Ireland, 
again approach the legislature with a statement of the 
grievances under which we labour, and of which we 
most respectfully, but at the same time most firmly, 
solicit the efFectual redress. Our wrongs are so noto- 



PETITION. gy 

rious, and so numerous, that their minute detail is quite 
unnecessary, and would indeed be impossible, were it 
deemed expedient. Ages of persecution on the one hand, 
and of patience on the other, sufficiently attest our suf- 
ferings and our submission. Privations have been an- 
swered only by petition, indignities by remonstrance^ 
injuries by forgiveness. It has been a misfortune to 
have suffered for the sake of our religion ; hut it has 
also been a pride to have borne die best testimony to the 
purity of our doctrine, by the meekness of our endu- 
rance. 

We have sustained the power which spurned us ; we 
have nerved the arm which smote us ; we have lavished 
our strength, our talent, and our treasures, and buoyed 
up, on the prodigal effusion of our young blood, the tri- 
umphant Ark of British Liberty. 

We approach, then, with confidence, an enlightened 
legislature ; in the name of Nature, we ask our rights 
as men ; in the name of the Constitution, we ask our 
privileges as subjects ; in the name of God, we ask 
the sacred protection of unpersecuted piety as Chris- 
tians. 

Are securities required of us ? We offer them — the 
best securities a throne can have — the affections of a 
people. We offer faith that was never violated, hearts 
that were never corrupted, valour that never crouched. 
Every hour of peril has proved our allegiance, and 
every field of Europe exhibits its example. 



88 



PETITION. 



We abjure all temporal authority, except that of our 
Sovereign ; we acknowledge no civil pre-eminence, save 
that of our constitution ; and, for our lavish and volun- 
tary expenditure, we only ask a reciprocity of benefits. 

Separating, as we do, our civil rights from our spiri- 
tual duties, we humbly desire that they may not be con- 
founded. We " render unto Caesar the things that are 
Caesar's," but we must also " render unto God the 
things that are God's." Our church could not descend 
to claim a state-authority, nor do we ask for it a state 
aggrandisement : its hopes, its powers, and its preten- 
sions, are of another world ,• and, w r hen we raise our 
hands most humbly to the State, our prayer is not, that 
the fetters may be transferred to the hands which are 
raised for us to Heaven. We would not erect a splendid 
shrine even to Liberty on the ruins of the Temple. 

In behalf, then, of five millions of a brave and loyal 
people, we call upon the legislature to annihilate the odious 
bondage which bows down the mental, physical, and mo- 
ral energies of Ireland ; and, in the name of that Gospel 
which breathes charity towards all, we seek freedom of 
conscience for all the inhabitants of the British empire. 

May it therefore please this honourable House to abo- 
lish all penal and disabling laws, which in any manner 
infringe religions liberty, or restrict the free enjoyment 
•f the sacred rights of conscience, within these realms. 
And your petitioners will ever pray. 



THE ADDRESS 

TO 

H. R. H. THE PRINCESS OF WALES 

DRAWN 

BY MR. PHILLIPS 

AT THE REQUEST OF 

THE ROMAN CATHOLICS OF IRELAND. 



May it please Your Royal Highness, 

WE, the Roman Catholic people of Ireland, beg leave 
to offer our unfeigned congratulations on your providen- 
tial escape from the conspiracy which so lately endan- 
gered both your life and honour—a conspiracy, unman- 
ly in its motives, unnatural in its object, and unworthy 
in its means — a conspiracy combining so monstrous an 
union of turpitude and treason, that it is difficult to say, 
whether royalty would have suffered more from its suc- 
cess, than human nature has from its conception. Our 
allegiance is not less shocked at the infernal spirit, 
which would sully the diadem, by breathing on its most 
precious ornament, the virtue of its wearer, than our best 
feelings are at the inhospitable baseness, which would 

M 



90 



ADDRESS. 



betray the innocence of a female in a land of strangers ! ! 

Deem it wot disrespectful, illustrious Lady, that from 
a people proverbially ardent in the cause of the de- 
fenceless, the shout of virtuous congratulation should 
receive a feeble echo. Our harp has long been unused 
to tones of gladness, and our hills but faintly answer the 
unusual accent. Your heart, however, can appreciate 
the silence inflicted by suffering ; and ours, alas, feels 
but too acutely that the commiseration is sincere which 
flows from sympathy. 

Let us hope that, when congratulating virtue in your 
royal person, on her signal triumph over the perjured,, 
the profligate, and the corrupt, we may also rejoice in- 
the completion of its consequences. Let us hope that 
the society of your only child again solaces your digni- 
fied retirement ; and that, to the misfortune of being a 
widowed wife, is not added to the pang of being a child- 
less mother! 

But, if Madam, our hopes are not fulfilled ; if, in- 
deed the cry of an indignant and unanimous people is 
disregarded; console yourself with the reflection, that, 
though your exiled daughter may not hear the precepts 
of virtue from your lips, she may at least study the prac- 
tice of it in your example. 



A SPEECH 



DELIVERED 

BY MR. PHILLIPS 

AT A PUBLIC DINNER GIVEN TO HIM 
BY THE 

FRIENDS OF CIVIL AND RELIGIOUS LIBERTY 
IN LIVERPOOL. 



BELIEVE me Mr. Chairman, I feel too sensibly the 
high and unmerited compliment you have paid me, to 
attempt any other return than the simple expression of 
my gratitude ; to be just, I must be silent ; but though 
the tongue is mute, my heart is much more than eloquent. 
The kindness of friendship, the testimony of any class, 
however humble, carries with it no trifling gratification ; 
but stranger as I am, to be so distinguished in this great 
city, whose wealth is its least commendation ; the em- 
porium of commerce, liberality, and public spirit ; th« 
birth-place of talent ; the residence of integrity ; the field 
where freedom seems to have rallied the last allies of her 
cause, as if with the noble consciousness that, though pa- 
triotism could not wreath the laurel round her brow, 



92 



SPEECH 



genius should at least raise it over her ashes ; to be so 
distinguished, Sir, and in such a place, does, I confess, 
inspire me with a vanity which even a sense of my un- 
importance cannot entirely silence. Indeed, Sir, the mi- 
nisterial critics of Liverpool were right. I have no claim 
to this enthusiastic welcome. But I cannot look upon 
this testimonial so much as a tribute to myself, as an 
omen to that country with whose fortunes the dearest 
sympathies of my soul are interwined. Oh yes, I do fore- 
see when she shall hear with what courtesy her most 
pretentionless advocate has been treated, how the same 
wind that wafts her the intelligence, will revive that 
flame within her, which the blood of ages has not been 
able to extinguish. It may be a delusive hope, but I 
am glad to grasp at any phantom that flits across the so- 
litude of that country's desolation. On this subject you 
can scarcely be ignorant, for you have an Irishman resi- 
dent amongst you, whom I am proud to call my friend ; 
whose fidelity to Ireland no absence can diminish ; who 
has at once the honesty to be candid, and the talent to 
be convincing. I need scarcely say I allude to Mr. 
Casey. I knew, Sir, the statue was too striking to re- 
quire a name upon the pedestal. — Alas, Ireland has little 
now to console her, except the consciousness of having 
produced such men. — It would be a reasonable adulation 
in me to deceive you. Six centuries of base misgovern- 
ment, of causeless, ruthless, and ungrateful persecution, 
have now reduced that country to a crisis, at which I 
know not whether the friend of humanity has most causo 



AT LIVERPOOL gg 

to grieve or to rejoice ; because I am not sure that the same 
feeling which prompts the tear at human sufferings, 
ought not to triumph in that increased infliction which 
may at length tire them out of endurance. I trust in 
God a change of system may in time anticipate the re- 
sults of desperation ; but you may quite depend on it, a 
period is approaching, when, if penalty does not pause 
in the pursuit, patience will turn short on the pur- 
suer. Can you wonder at it ! Contemplate Ireland dur- 
ing any given period of England's rule, and what a pic- 
ture does she exhibit! Behold her created in all the pro- 
digality of nature ; with a soil that anticipates the hus- 
bandman's desire ; with harbours courting the commerce 
of the world ; with rivers capable of the most effective na- 
vigation ; with the ore of every metal struggling through 
her surface ; with a people, brave, generous, and intel- 
lectual, literally forcing their way through the disabilities 
of their own country into the highest stations of every 
other, and well rewarding the policy that promotes them, 
by achievements the most heroic, and allegiance without 
a blemish. How have the successive governments of 
England demeaned themselves to a nation, offering such 
an accumulation of moral and political advantages ! See 
it in the state of Ireland at this instant; in the universal 
bankruptcy that overwhelms her ; in the loss of her 
trade ; in the annihilation of her manufactures ; in the 
deluge of her debt ,• in the divisions of her people ; in all 
the loathsome operations of an odious, monopoly zing, hy- 
pocritical fanaticism on the one hand, wrestling with the 



94 



SPEECH 



untired but natural reprisals of an irritated population on 
the other ! it required no common ingenuity to reduce such 
a country to such a situation. But it has been done; man has 
conquered the beneficence of the Deity ; his harpy touch 
has changed the viands to corruption ; and that land, 
which you might have possessed in health, and wealth, and 
vigour, to support you in your hour of need, now writhes 
in the agonies of death, unable even to lift the shroud 
with which famine and fatuity try to encumber her con- 
vulsion. This is what I see a pentioned press denomi- 
nates tranquillity. Oh, wo to the land threatened with 
such tranquillity; solitudinem faciunt, pacem appellant ; 
it is not yet the tranquillity of solitude ; it is not yet the 
tranquillity of death ; but if you would know what it is, 
go forth in the silence of creation, when every wind is 
hushed, and every echo mute, and all nature seems to 
listen in dumb and terrified and breathless expectation, 
go forth in such an hour, and see the terrible tranquillity 
by which you are surrounded ! How could it be other- 
wise ; when for ages upon ages invention has fatigued 
itself with expedients for irritation ; when, as I have read 
with horror in the progress of my legal studies, the ho- 
micide of a " mere Irishman " was considered justifiable; 
and when his ignorance was theorigineofall his crimes, 
his education was prohibited by Act of Parliament ! — 
when the people were worm-eaten by the odious vermin 
which a church and State adultery had spawned ; when 
a bad heart and brainless head, were the fangs by which 
every foreign adventurer and domestic traitor fastened 



AT LIVERPOOL. 95 

upon office ; when the property of the native was but an 
invitation to plunder, and his non-acquiescence the sig- 
nal for confiscation ; when religion itself was made the 
odious pretence for every persecution, and the fires of 
hell were alternately lighted with the cross, and quenched 
in the blood of its defenceless followers ! I speak of times 
that are passed : but can their recollections, can their 
consequences be so readily eradicated. Why, however, 
should I refer to periods that are so distant? Behold at this 
instant, five millions of her people disqualified on ac- 
count of their faith, and that by a country professing 
freedom ! and that under a government calling itself 
Christian ! You (when I say you, of course I mean, not 
the high-minded people of England, but the men who 
misgovern us both) seem to have taken out a roving com- 
mission in search of grievances abroad, whilst you over- ' 
look the calamities at your own door, and of your own 
infliction. You traverse the ocean to emancipate the 
African ; you cross the line to convert the Hindoo ; you 
hurl your thunder against the savage Algerine ; but your 
own brethren at home, who speak the same tongue, ac- 
knowledge the same King, and kneel to the same God, 
cannot get one visit from your itenerant humanity I Oh, 
such a system is almost too abominable for a name ; it 
is a monster of impiety, impolicy, ingratitude, and injus- 
tice ! The pagan nations of antiquity, scarcely acted on 
such barbarous principles. Look to ancient Rome, with 
her sword in one hand and her constitution in the other, 
healing the injuries of conquest with the embrace of bro- 



gfl SPEECH 

therhood, and wisely converting the captive into the citi- 
zen. Look to her great enemy, the glorious Carthagi- 
nian, at the foot of the Alps, ranging his prisoners round 
him, and by the politic option of captivity or arms, re- 
cruiting his legions with the very men whom he had 
literally conquered into gratitude ! They laid their foun- 
dations deep in the human heart, and their success was 
proportionate to their policy. You complain of the vio- 
lence of the Irish Catholic : can you wonder he is vio- 
lent I It is the consequence of your own infliction — 

" The flesh will quiver where the pincers tear, 
The blood will follow where the knife is driven." 

Your friendship has heen to him worse than hostility j 
he feels its embrace but by the pressure of his fetters I 
•I am only amazed he is not more violent. He fills your 
exchequer, he fights your battles, he feeds your clergy 
from whom he derives no benefit, he shares your bur- 
dens, he shares your perils, he shares every thing ex- 
cept your privileges, can you wander he is violent ? No 
matter what his merit, no matter what his claims, no 
matter what his services ; he sees himself a nominal sub- 
ject, and a real slave ; and his children, the heirs, per- 
haps of his toils, perhaps of his talents, certainly of his 
disqualifications — can you wonder he is violent? He 
sees every pretended obstacle to his emancipation vanish- 
ed ; Catholic Europe your ally, the Bourbon on the 
throne, the Emperor a captive, the Pope a friend, the 
aspersions on his faith disproved by his allegiance to 



AT LIVERPOOL 



97 



you against, alternately, every Catholic potentate in 
Christendom, and he feels himself branded with heredi- 
tary degradation — can you wonder, then, that he is vio- 
lent? He petitioned humbly; histameness was constru- 
ed into a proof of apathy. He petitioned boldly ; his 
remonstrance was considered as an impudent audacity. 
He petitioned in peace ; he was told it was not the time. 
He petitioned in war, he was told it was not the time. 
A strange interval, a prodigy in politics, a pause be- 
tween peace and war, which appeared to be just made 
for him, arose ; I allude to the period between the retreat 
of Louis and the restoration of Bonaparte ; he petitioned 
then, and he was told it was not the time. Oh, shame ! 
shame! shame ! I hope he will petition no more to a 
parliament so equivocating. However, I am not sorry 
they did so equivocate, because I think they have sug- 
gested one common remedy for the grievances of both 
countries, and that remedy is, a Reform of that Par- 
liament. Without that, I plainly see, there is no 
hope for Ireland, there is no salvation for England ; 
they will act towards you as they have done towards us ; 
they will admit your reasoning, they will admire your 
eloquence, and they will prove their sincerity by a strict 
perseverance in the impolicy you have exposed, and the 
profligacy you have deprecated. Look to England at 
this moment. To what a state have they not reduced 
her ! Over this vast island, for whose wealth the winds 
of Heaven seemed to blow, covered as she once was with 
the gorgeous mantle of successful agriculture, all studded 

N 



98 



SPEECH. 



over with the gems of art and manufacture, there is now- 
scarce an object but industry in rags, and patience in 
despair ,* the merchant without a ledger, the fields with- 
out a harvest, the shops without a customer, the Ex- 
change deserted, and the Gazette crowded, from the most 
heart rending comments on that nefarious system, in 
support of which, peers and contractors, stock-jobbers 
and sinecurists, in short, the whole trained, collared, 
pampered, and rapacious pack of ministerial beagles, 
have been, for half a century, in the most clamorous and 
discordant uproar ! During all this misery how are the 
pilots of the state employed ? Why, in feeding the bleat- 
ed mammoth of sinecure! in weighing the farthings of 
some underling's salary ! in preparing Ireland for a 
garrison, and England for a poor-house ! in the structure 
of Chinese palaces ! the decoration of dragoons, and the 
erection of public buldings ! I ! Oh, it's easily seen we 
have a saint in the Exchequer ! he has studied Scrip- 
ture to some purpose! the famishing people cry out for 
bread, and the scriptural minister gives them stones ! 
Such has been the result of the blessed Pitt system, 
which amid oceans of blood, and 800 millions expendi- 
ture, has left you, after all your victories, a triumphant 
dupe, a trophied bankrupt. I have heard before of 
states ruined by the visitations of Providence, devastat- 
ed by famine, wasted by fire, overcome by enemies; 
but never until now did I see a state like England, impo- 
verished by her spoils, and conquered by her successes \ 
She has fought the fight of Europe ; she has purchased 



AT LIVERPOOL. 99 

*11 Us coinable blood ; she has subsidized all its dependen- 
cies in their own cause ; she has conquered by sea, she 
has conquered by land 5 shehas got peace, and, of course, 
or the Pitt apostles would not have made peace, she has 
got her « indemnity for the past, and security for the fu- 
ture," and here she is, after all her vanity and all hep 
victories, surrounded by desolation, like one of the pyra- 
mids of Egypt ; amid tJie grandeur of the desert, full of 
magnificence and death, at once a trophy and a tomb ! 
The heart of any reflecting man must burn within him, 
when he thinks that the war thus sanguinary in its ope- 
rations, and confessedly ruinous in its expenditure, was 
even still more odious in its principle ! It was a war 
avowedly undertaken for the purpose of forcing France 
out of her undoubted right of choosing her own monarch; 
a war which uprooted the very foundations of the Eng^ 
lish constitution : which libelled the most glorious era in 
our national annals ; which declared tyranny eternal, 
and announced to the people, amid the thunder of artil- 
lery, that, no matter how aggrieved, their only allowable 
attitude was that of supplication ; which, when it told 
the French reformer of 1793, that his defeat was just,, 
told the British reformer of 1688, his triumph was trea- 
son, and exhibited to history, the terrific farce of a 
Prince of the House of Brunswick, the creature of the 
Revolution, offering a human hecatomb upon the 
grave of James the Second ! ! What else have you 
done ? You have succeeded indeed in dethroning Napo- 
leon, and you have dethroned a monarch, who, with all - 



106 



SPEECH 



his imputed crimes and vices, ^hed a splendour around 
royalty, too powerful for the feeble vision of legitimacy 
even to bear. He had many faults; I do not seek to 
palliate them: He deserted his principles ; I rejoice that 
he has suffered. But still let us be generous even in our 
enmities. How grand was his march ! How magnifi- 
cent his destiny ! Say what we will, Sir, he will be the 
landmark of our times in the eye of posterity. The 
goal of other men's speed was his starting-post; crowns 
were his play -things, thrones his footstool ; he strode 
from victory to victory ; his path was " a plane of con- 
tinued elevations." Surpassing the boast of the too con- 
fident Roman, he but stamped upon the earth, and not 
only armed men. but states and dynasties, and arts and 
sciences, all that mind could imagine, or industry pro- 
duce, started up, the creation of enchantment. He has 
fallen — as the late Mr. Whitebread said, c « you made him 
and he unmade himself" — his own ambition was his glo- 
rious conqueror. He attempted, with a sublime audacity, 
to grasp the fires of Heaven, and his heathen retribution 
has been the vulture and the rock ! ! I do not ask w hat 
you have gained by it, because, in place of gaining any 
thing, you are infinitely worse than when you commenc- 
ed the contest! But what have you done for Europe ? 
What have you achieved for man ? Have morals been 
ameliorated ? Has liberty been strengthened ! Has any 
one improvement in politics or philosophy been pro- 
duced ? Let us see how. You have restored to Portu- 
gal a Prince of whom we know notiiing, except that. 



AT LIVERPOOL. |Q^ 

when his dominions were invaded, his people distracted, 
his crown in danger, and all that could interest the 
highest energies of man at issue, he left his cause to be 
combated by foreign bayonets, and fled with a dastard 
precipitation to the shameful security of a distant hemis- 
phere ! You have restored to Spain a wretch of even 
worse than proverbial princely ingratitude ; who filled 
his dungeons, and fed his rack with the heroic remnant 
that braved war, and famine, and massacre beneath his 
banners ; who rewarded patriotism with the prison, fide- 
lity with the torture, heroism with the scaffold, and piety 
with the Inquisition ; whose royalty was published by 
the signature of his death-warrants, and whose religion 
evaporated in the embroidering of petticoats for the Blessed 
Virgin/ You have forced upon France a family to 
whom misfortune could teach no mercy, or experience 
wisdom ; vindictive in prosperity, servile in defeat, timid 
in the field, vacillating In the cabinet; suspicion amongst 
themselves, discontent amongst their followers ; their 
memories tenacious but of the punishments they had 
provoked, their piety active but in subserviency to their 
priesthood, and their power passive but in the subjuga- 
tion of their people! Such are the dynasties you have 
conferred on Europe. In the very act, that of enthron- 
ing three individuals of the same family, you have com- 
mitted in politics a capital error ; but Providence has 
countermined the ruin you were preparing ; and whilst 
the impolicy presents the chance, their impotency pre- 
cludes the danger of a coalition. As te the rest of 



102 



SPEECH 



Europe, how has it been ameliorated ? What solitary 
benefit have the "deliverers" conferred? They have 
partitioned the states of the feeble to feed the rapacity of 
the powerful ; and after having alternately adored and 
deserted Napoleon, they have wreaked their vengeance 
on the noble, but unfortunate fidelity that spurned their 
example. Do you want proofs ; look to Saxony, look to 
Genoa, look to Norway, but, above all, to Poland ! that 
speaking monument of regal murder and legitimate 
robbery — 

Oh ! bloodiest picture in tlie book of time— 
Sarmatia fell — unwept — without a crime ! 

Here was an opportunity to recompense that brave, he 
roic, generous, martyred, and devoted people : here was 
an opportunity to convince Jacobinism that crowns and 
crimes were not, of course, co-existent, and that the 
highway rapacity of one generation might be atoned by 
the penitential retribution of another ! Look to Italy ; 
parcelled out to temporizing Austria — the land of the 
muse, the historian, and the hero ; the scene of every 
classic reolleetion ; the sacred fane of antiquity, where 
the genius of the w T orld weeps and worships, and the 
spirits of the past start into life at the inspiring pilgri- 
mage of some kindred Roscoe. You do yourselves ho- 
nour by this noble, this natural enthusiasm. Long may 
you enjoy the pleasure of possessing, never can you lose 
the pride of having produced the scholar without pedan- 
try, the patriot without reproach, the Christian without 



AT LIVERPOOL. 



103 



superstition, the man without a blemish ! It is a subject 
I could dwell on with delight for ever. How painful 
our transition to the disgusting path of the deliverers. 
Look to Prussia, after fruitless toil and wreathless tri- 
umphs, mocked with the promise of a visionary consti- 
tution. Look to France, chained and plundered weeping 
over the tomb of her hopes and her heroes. Look to 
England, eaten by the cancer of an incurable debt, ex- 
hausted by poor-rates, supporting a civil list of near a 
million and a half, annual amount, guarded by a stand- 
ing army of 149,000 men, misrepresented by a House of 
Commons, 90 of whose members in places and pensions 
derive 200,000/. in yearly emoluments from the minister, 
mocked with a military peace, and girt with the fortifica- 
tions of a war- establishment ! Shades of heroic millions 
these are thy achievements! Monster of Legiti- 
macy, this is thy consummation ! P The past is out of 
power; it is high time to provide against the future. 
Retrenchment and reform are now become not only ex- 
pedient for our prosperity, but necessary to our very 
existence. Can any man of sense say that the present 
system should continue ? What ! when war and peace 
have alternately thrown every family in the empire into 
mourning and poverty, shall the fattened tax-gatherer 
extort the starving manufacturer's last shilling, to swell 
the unmerited and enormous sinecure of some wealthy 
pauper? Shall a borough-mongering faction convert 
what is misnamed the National Representation into a 
mere instrument for raising the supplies which are to 



104 



SPEECH 



gorge its own venality ? Shall the mock dignitaries of 
Whiggism and Toryism lead their hungry retainers to 
contest the profits of an alternate ascendency over the 
prostrate interest of a too generous people ? These are 
questions which I blush to ask, which I shudder to think 
must be either answered by the parliament or the people. 
Let our rulers prudently avert the interrogation. We 
live in times when the slightest remonstrance should 
command attention, when the minutest speck that merely 
dots the edge of the political horizon, may be the car of 
the approaching spirit of the storm ? Oh ! they are 
times whose omen no fancied security can avert; times 
of the most awful and portentous admonition. Esta- 
blishments the most solid, thrones the most ancient, 
coalitions the most powerful, have crumbled before our 
eyes; and the creature of a moment robed, and crowned, 
and sceptred, raised his fairy creation on their ruins ! 
The warning has been given; may it not have been 
given in vain ! 

I feel, Sir, that the magnitude of the topics I have 
touched, and the imminency of the perils which seem to 
surround us, have led me far beyond the limits of a con- 
vivial meeting. I see I have my apology in your indul- 
gence — but I cannot prevail on myself to trespass farther. 
Accept, again, Gentlemen, my most grateful acknow- 
ledgments. Never, never, can I forget this day; in 
private life it shall be the companion of my solitude; and 
if, in the caprices of that fortune which will at times de- 
grade the high and dignify the humble, I should hereaf- 



SPEECH AT LIVERPOOL. 



105 



ter be called to any station of responsibility, I think, I 
may at least fearlessly promise the friends who thus 
crowd around me, that no act of mine shall ever raise a 
blush at the recollection of their early encouragement. 
I hope, however, the benefit of this day will not be con- 
fined to the humble individual you have so honoured ; I 
hope it will cheer on the young aspirants after virtuous 
fame in both our countries, by proving to them, that 
however, for the moment, envy, or ignorance, or corrup- 
tion, may depreciate them, there is a reward in store for 
the man who thinks with integrity and acts with decision. 
Gentlemen, you will add to the obligations you have 
already conferred, by delegating to me the honour of 
proposing to you the health of a man, whose virtues 
adorn, and whose, talents powerfully advocate our cause: 
I mean the health of your worthy Chairman, Mr. Shep- 
herd. 







SPEECH 



or 
MR. PHILLIPS 

IN 

THE CASE OF GUTHRIE v. STERNE, 

DELIVERED IN 

THE COURT OF COMMON PLEAS, DUBLIN. 



My Lord and Gentlemen, 

IN this case I am of counsel for the plaintiff, who has 
deputed me, with the kind concession of my much more 
efficient colleagues, to detail to you the story of his mis- 
fortunes. In the course of a long friendship which has 
existed between us, originating in mutual pursuits, and 
cemented by our mutual attachments, never, until this 
instant, did I feel any thing but pleasure in the claims 
which it created, or the duty which it imposed. In 
selecting me, however, from this bright array of learn- 
ing and of eloquence, I cannot help being pained at the 



SPEECH IN THE CASE OF 



107 



kindness of a partiality which forgets its interest in the 
exercise of its affection, and confides the task of prac- 
tised wisdom to the uncertain guidance of youth anil 
inexperience. He has thought, perhaps, that truth need- 
ed no set phrase of speech ; that misfortune should not 
veil the furrows which its tears had burned; or hide, 
under the decorations of an artful drapery, the heart- 
rent heavings with which its bosom throbbed. He has 
surely thought that by contrasting mine with the power- 
ful talents selected by his antagonist, he was giving you a 
proof that the appeal he made was to your reason, not 
to your feelings — to the integrity of your hearts, not the 
exasperation of your passions. Happily, however, for 
him, happily for you, happily for the country, happily 
for the profession, on subjects such as this, the experi- 
ence of the oldest amongst us is but slender ; deeds such 
as this are not indigenous to an Irish soil, or naturalized 
beneath an Irish climate. We hear of them, indeed, as 
we do of the earthquakes that convulse, or the pestilence 
that infects, less favoured regions; but the record of the 
calamity is only read with the generous scepticism of 
innocence, or an involuntary thanksgiving to the Provi- 
dence that has preserved us. No matter how we may 
have graduated in the scale of nations ; no matter with 
what wreath we may have been adorned, or what bles- 
sings we may have been denied ; no matter what may 
have been our feuds, our follies, or our misfortunes; it 
has at least been universally conceded, that our hearths 
were the home of the domestic virtues, and that love, ho- 



108 



GUTHRIE V. STERNE. 



nour, and conjugal fidelity, were the dear and indispu- 
table deities of our household ! around the fire-side of 
the Irish hovel, hospitality circumscribed its sacred cir- 
cle ; and a provision to punish, created a suspicion of 
the possibility of its violation. But of all the ties that 
bound — of all the bounties that blessed her — Ireland 
most obeyed, most loved, most revered the nuptial con- 
tract. She saw it the gift of Heaven, the charm of earth, 
the joy of the present, the promise of the future, tjhe in- 
nocence of enjoyment, the chastity of passion, the sacra- 
ment of love ; the slender curtain that shades the sanc- 
tuary of her marriage-bed, has in its purity the splendour 
of the mountain-snow, and for its protection the texture 
of the mountain-adamant. Gentlemen, that national 
sanctuary has been invaded ; that venerable divinity has 
been violated ; and its tenderest pledges torn from their 
shrine, by the polluted rapine of a kindless, heartless, 
prayerless, remorseless adulterer! To you — religion 
defiled, morals insulted, law despised, public order foully 
violated, and individual happiness wantonly wounded, 
make their melancholy appeal. You will hear the facts 
with as much patience as indignation will allow — I will 
myself, ask of you to adjudge them with as much mercy 
as justice will admit. 

The Plaintiff in this case is John Guthrie ; by birth, 
by education, by profession, by better than all, by prac- 
tice and by principles, a gentleman. Believe me, it is not 
from the common-place of advocacy, or from the blind 
natality of friendship, that 1 say of him, that whether 



SPEECH IN THE CASE OF 



109 



considering the virtues that adorn life, or the blandish- 
ments that endear it, he has few superiors. Surely, if a 
spirit that disdained dishonour, if a heart tiiat knew not 
guilo, if a life above reproach, and a character beyond 
suspicion, could have been a security against misfor- 
tunes, his lot must have been happiness. I speak in the 
presence of that profession to which he was an ornament, 
and with whose members his manhood has been familiar; 
and 1 say of him, with a confidence that defies refuta- 
tion, that, whether we consider him in his private or his 
public station, as a man or as a lawyer, there never 
breathed that being less capable of exciting enmity to- 
wards himself, or of offering, even by implication, an 
offence to others. If he had a fault, it was, that, above 
crime, he was above suspicion; and to that noblest error 
of a noble nature he has fallen a victim* Having spent 
his youth in the cultivation of a mind which must have 
one day led him to eminence, lie became a member of 
the profession by which I am surrounded. Possessing, 
as he did, a moderate independence, and looking for- 
ward to the most flattering prospects, it was natural for 
him to select amongst the other sex, some friend who 
should adorn his fortunes, and deceive his toils. He 
found such a friend, or thought he found her, in the per- 
son of Miss Warren, the only daughter of an eminent 
solicitor. Young, beautiful, and accomplished, she was 
4< adorned with all that earth or heaven could bestow to 
make her amiable." Virtue never found a fairer tem- 
ple ; beauty never veiled a purer sanctuary ; the graces 



110 



GUTHRIE V. STERNE. 



of her mind retained the admiration which her beauty 
had attracted, and the eye, which her charms fired, be- 
came subdued and chastened in the modesty of their 
association. She was in the dawn of life, with all its 
fragrance round her, and yet so pure, that even the 
blush which sought to hide her lustre, but disclosed the 
vestal deity that burned beneath it. No wonder an 
adoring husband anticipated all the joys this world could 
give him ; no wonder the parental eye, which beamed 
upon their union, saw, in the perspective, an old age of 
happiness, and a posterity of honour. Methinks I see 
them at the sacred altar, joining those hands which 
Heaven commanded none should separate, repaid for ma- 
ny a pang of anxious nurture by the sweet smile of filial 
piety ; and in the holy rapture of the rite, worshipping 
the power that blessed their children, and gave them hope 
their names should live hereafter. It was virtue's 
vision ! None but fiends could ' envy it. Year after 
year confirmed the anticipation ; four lovely children 
blessed their union. Nor was their love the summer 
passion of prosperity ; misfortune proved, afflictions 
chastened it; before the mandate of that mysterious 
Power which will at times despoil the paths of innocence, 
to decorate the chariot of triumphant villany, my client 
had to bow in silent resignation. He owed his adver- 
sity to the benevolence of his spirit ; he " went security 
for friends ;" those friends deceived him, and he was 
obliged to seek in other lands, that safe asylum which 
his own denied him. He was glad to accept an oiFer of 



SPEECH IN THE CASE OF 



111 



professional business in Scotland during his temporary 
embarrassment. With a conjugal devotion, Mrs. Gu- 
thrie accompanied him ; and in her smile the soil of a 
stranger was a home, the sorrows of adversity were dear 
to him. During their residence in Scotland, a period of 
about a year, you will find they lived as they had done 
in Ireland, and as they continued to do until this cala- 
mitous occurrence, in a state of uninterrupted happiness. 
You shall hear, most satisfactorily, that their domestic 
life was unsullied and undisturbed. Happy at home, 
happy in a husband's love, happy in her parents' fond- 
ness, happy in the children she had nursed, Mrs. Guthrie 
carried into every circle — and there Was no circle in 
which her society was not courted — that cheerfulness 
which never was a companion of guilt, or a stranger to 
innocence. My client saw her the pride of his family, 
the favourite of his friends — at once the organ and orna- 
ment of his happiness. His ambition awoke, his indus- 
try redoubled; and that fortune, which though for a 
season it may frown, never totolly abandons probity and 
Tirtue, had begun to smile on him. He was beginning 
to rise in the ranks of his competitors, and rising with 
such a character, that emulation itself rather rejoiced 
than envied. It was at this crisis, in this, the noon of 
his happiness, and day-spring of his fortune, that, to the 
ruin of both, the Defendant became acquainted with his 
family. With the serpent's wile, and the serpent's 
wickedness, he stole into the Eden of domestic life, poi- 
soning all that was pure, polluting all that was lovely, 



\i% 



GUTHRIE V. STERNE. 



defying God, destroying man ; a demon in the disguise 
of virtue, a herald of hell in the paradise of innocence. 
His name, Gentlemen, is William Peter Baker 
Dunstaxville Sterive ; one would think he had epi- 
thets enough, without adding to them the title of Adulte- 
rer. Of his character I know but little, and I am sorry 
that I know so much. If I am instructed rightly, he is 
one of those vain and vapid coxcombs, whose vices tinge 
the frivolity of their follies with something of a more 
odious character than ridicule — with just head enough 
to contrive crime, but not heart enough to feel for its 
consequences ; one of those fashionable insects, that folly 
has painted, and fortune plumed, for the annoyance of 
our atmosphere ; dangerous alike in their torpidity and 
their animation ; infesting where they fly, and poisoning 
where they repose. It was through the introduction of 
Mr. Fallon, the son of a most respectable lady, then 
resident in Temple-street, and a near relative of Mr, 
Guthrie, that the Defendant and this unfortunate woman 
first became acquainted : to such an introduction the 
shadow of a suspicion could not possibly attach. Occu- 
pied himself in his professional pursuits, my client had 
little leisure for the amusement of society ; however, to 
the protection of Mrs. Fallon, her son, and daughters, 
moving in the first circles, unstained by any possible 
imputation, he without hesitation intrusted all that was 
dear to him. No suspicion could be awakened as to any 
man to whom such a female as Mrs. Fallon permitted an 
intimacy with her daughters ; while at her house then, 



SPEECH IN THE CASE OF 



113 



and at the parties which it originated, the defendant and 
Mrs. Guthrie had frequent opportunities of meeting. 
Who could have suspected, that, under the very roof of 
virtue, in the presence of a venerable and respected ma- 
tron, and of that innocent family, whom she had reared 
up in the sunshine of her example, the most abandoned 
profligate could have plotted his iniquities ! Who would 
not rather suppose, that, in the rebuke of such a pre- 
sence, guilt would have torn away the garland from its 
brow, and blushed itself into virtue. But the depravity 
of this man was of no common dye ; the asylum of inno- 
cence was selected only as the sanctuary of his crimes; 
and the pure and the spotless chosen as his associates, 
because they would be more unsuspected subsidiaries to 
his wickedness. Nor were his manner and his language 
less suited than his society to the concealment of his 
objects. If you believed himself, the sight of suffering 
affected his nerves; the bare mention of immorality 
smote upon his conscience ; an intercourse with the con- 
tinental courts had refined his mind into a painful sensi- 
bility to the barbarisms of Ireland ! and yet an internal 
tenderness towards his native land so irresistibly impel- 
led him to improve it by his residence, that he was a 
hapless victim to the excess of his feelings ! — the exqui- 
siteness of his polish ! — and the excellence of his patriot- 
ism ! His English estates, he said, amounted to about 
10,000i. a year ; and he retained in Ireland only a trifling 
3000/. more, as a kind of trust for the necessities of its 
inhabitants ! — In short, according to his own description, 

P 



114 



GUTHRIE V. STERNE. 



he was in religion a saint, and in morals a stoic — a sort 
of wandering philanthropist ! making, like the Sterne, 
who, lie confessed, had the honour of his name and his 
connexion, a Sentimental Journey in search of objects 
over whom his heart might weep and his sensibility ex- 
pand itself! 

How happy it is, that, of the philosophic profligate 
only retaining the vires and the name, his rashness has 
led to the arrest of crimes, which he had all his turpi- 
tude to commit, without any of his talents to embellish. 

It was by arts such as I have alluded to — by pretend- 
ing the mos strict morality, the most sensitive honour, 
the most high and undeviating principles of virtue, — that 
the defendant banished every suspicion of his designs. 
As far as appearances went, he was exactly what he de- 
scribed himself. His pretensions to morals he supported 
by the most reserved and respectful behaviour : his hand 
was lavish in the distribution of his charities ; and a 
splendid equipage, a numerous retinue, a system of the 
most profuse and prodigal expenditure, left no doubt as 
to the reality of his fortune. Thus circumstanced he 
found an easy admittance to the house of Mrs. Fallon, 
and there he had many opportunities of seeing Mrs; 
Guthrie ; for, between his family and that of so respec- 
table a relative as Mrs. Fallon, my client had much 
anxiety to increase the connexion. They visited toge- 
ther some of the public amusements ; they partook of 
some of the fetes in the neighbourhood of the metropolis ; 
but upon every occasion, Mrs. Guthrie was accompanied 



SPEECH IN THE CASE OF 



li5 



/ 



by her own mother, and by the respectable females of 
Mrs. Fallon's family. I say, upon every occasion : and 
I challenge them to produce one single instance of those 
innocent excursions, upon which the slanders of an in- 
terested calumny have been let loose, in which this un- 
fortunate lady was not matronized by her female rela- 
tives, and those some of the most spotless characters in 
society. Between Mr. Guthrie and the defendant, the 
acquaintance was but slight. Upon one occasion alone 
they dined together ; it was at the house of the plaintiff's 
father-in-law ; and, that you may have some illustra- 
tion of the defendant's character, I shall briefly instance 
his conduct at this dinner. On being introduced to Mr. 
Warren, he apologized for any deficiency of etiquette in 
his visits, declaring that he had been seriously occu- 
pied in arranging the affairs of his lamented father, who, 
though tenant for life, had contracted debts to an enor- 
mous amount. He had already paid upwards of 10,000/* 
which honour and not law compelled him to discharge % 
as, sweet soul ! he could not bear that any one should 
suffer unjustly by his family ! His subsequent conduct 
was quite consistent with this hypocritical preamble : at 
dinner, he sat at a distance from Mrs. Guthrie ; expati- 
ated to her husband upon matters of morality ; entering 
into a high-flown panegyric on the virtues of domestic 
iife, and the comforts of connubial happiness. In short* 
had there been any idea of jealousy, his manner would 
have banished it ; and the mind must have been worse 
than sceptical, which would refuse its credence to hii 



I j g GUTHRIE V. STERNE. 

surface morality. Gracious God ! when the heart once 
admits guilt as its associate, how every natural emotion 
flies before it ! Surely, surely, here was a scene to re- 
claim, if it were possible, this remorseless defendant, — 
admitted to her father's table under the shield of hospi- 

\ tality, he saw a young and lovely female surrounded by 
W \ her parents, her husband, and her children ; the prop of 

^i \ those parents' age ; the idol of that husband's love ; 
I * the anchor of those children's helplessness ; the sacred 
orb of their domestic circle ; giving their smile its light, 
and their bliss its being ; robbed of whose beams the 
little lucid world of their home must become chill, un- 
cheered, and colourless for ever. He saw them happy, 
he saw them united ; blessed with peace, and purity, and 
profusion ; throbbing with sympathy and throned in love ; 
depicting the innocence of infancy, and the joys of man- 
hood before the venerable eye of age, as if to soften the 
farewell of one world by the pure and pictured an- 
ticipation of a better. Yet, even there, hid in the very 
sun-beam of that happiness, the demon of its destined 
desolation lurked. Just Heaven ! of what materials was 
that heart composed, which could meditate coolly on the 
murder of such enjoyments ; which innocence could not 
soften, nor peace propitiate, nor hospitality appease ; 
but which, in the very beam and bosom of its benefac- 
tion, warmed and excited itself into a more vigorous ve- 
nom ? Was there no sympathy in the scene ? Was there 
no remorse at the crime ? Was there no horror at its 
consequences ? 



SPEECH IS THE CASE Of 



117 



" AVere honour, virtue, conscience, all exil'd ! 
Was there no pity, no relenting ruth, 
To show their parents fondling o ? er their child, 
Then paint the ruin'd pair, and their distraction wild!" 

Burns. 

BTo ! no ! He was at that instant planning their destruc- 
tion ', and, even within four short days, he deliberately 
reduced those parents to childishness, that husband to 
widowhood, those smiling infants to anticipate oi*phan- 
age, and that peaceful, hospitable, confiding family, to 
belpless, hopeless, irremediable ruin ! 

Upon the first day of the ensuing July, Mr. Guthrie 
was to dine with the Connaught bar, at the hotel of Por- 
tobello. It is a custom, I am told, with the gentlemen 
of that association to dine together previous to the cir- 
cuit ; of course my client could not have decorously ab- 
sented himself. Mrs. Guthrie appeared a little feverish, 
and he requested that on his retiring, she would com- 
pose herself to rest ; she promised him she would ; and 
when he departed, somewhat abruptly, to put some let- 
ters in the post office, she exclaimed, '< What ! John, are 
you going to leave me thus V 9 He returned, and she 
kissed Mm. They seldom parted, even for any time, 
without that token of affection. I am thus minute, Gen- 
tlemen, that you may see, up to the last moment, w T hat 
little cause the husband had for suspicion, and how impas- 
sible it was for him to foresee a perfidy which nothing 
short of infatuation could have produced. He proceeded 
to his companions with no other regret than that neces- 



£lg GUTHRIE V. STERNE. 

sity, for a moment, forced him from a home, which the 
smile of affection had never ceased to endear to him. 
After a day, however, passed, as such a day might have 
been supposed to pass, in the flow of soul, and the philo- 
sophy of pleasure, he returned home to share his happi- 
ness with her, without whom no happiness ever had heen 
perfect. Alas ! he was never to behold her more ! Ima- 
gine, if you can, the phrenzy of his astonishment, in 
being informed by Mrs. Porter, the daughter of the for- 
mer landlady, that about two hours before, she had 
attended Mrs. Guthrie to a confectioner's shop; that a 
carriage had drawn up at the corner of the street, into 
which a gentleman, whom she recognized to be a Mr. 
Sterne, had handed her, and they instantly departed. I 
must tell you, there is every reason to believe, that this 
woman was the confidant of the conspiracy. What a 
pity that the object of that guilty confidence had not 
something of humanity ; that, as a female, she did not 
feel for the character of her sex ; that, as a mother, she 
did not mourn over the sorrows of a helpless family ! 
What pangs might she not have spared ? My client could 
hear no more ; even at the dead of night he rushed into 
the street, as if in its own dark hour he could discover 
guilt's recesses. In vain did he awake the peaceful fa- 
mily of the horror-struck Mrs. Fallon ; in vain, with the 
parents of the miserable fugitive, did he mingle the tears 
of an impotent distraction ; in vain, a miserable maniac, 
did he travers the silent streets of the metropolis, 
affrighting virtue from its slumber with the spectre of 



SPEECH IN THE CASE OF 



419 



its own ruin. I will not harrow you with its heart-rend- 
ing recital. But imagine you see him, when the day 
had dawned, returning wretched to his deserted dwell- 
ing ; seeing in every chamber a memorial of his loss, 
and hearing every tongueless object eloquent of his wo. 
Imagine you see him, in the reverie of his grief, trying 
to persuade himself it was all a vision, and awakened 
only to the horrid truth by his helpless children asking 
him for their mother ! — Gentlemen, this is not a picture 
of the fancy ; it literally occurred : there is something 
less of romance in the reflection, which his children 
awakened in the mind of their afflicted father ; he or- 
dered that they should be immediately habited in 
mourning. How rational sometimes are the ravings of 
insanity ! For all the purposes of maternal life, poor in- 
nocents ! they have no mother ! her tongue no more can 
teach, her hand no more can tend them ; for them there 
is not ''speculation in her eyes;" to them her life is 
something worse than death ; as if the awful grave had 
yawned her forth, she moves before them shrowded all 
in sin, the guilty burden of its peaceless sepulchre. Bet- 
ter', far better, their little feet had followed in her fune- 
ral, than the hour which taught her value, should reveal 
her vice, — mourning her loss, they might have blessed 
her memory ; and shame need not have rolled its fires 
into the fountain of their sorrow. 

As soon as his reason became sufficiently collected, 
Mr. Guthrie pursued the fugitives ; he traced them suc- 
cessively to Kildare, to Carlow, Waterford, Milfordha- 



120 



GUTHRIE V. STEItNE. 



ven, on through Wales, and finally to Ilfracombe, in 
Devonshire, where the clue was lost. I am glad that, 
in this route and restlessness of their guilt, as the crime 
they perpetrated was foreign to our soil, they did not 
make that soil the scene of its habitation. I will not 
follow them through this joyless journey, nor brand by 
my record the unconscious scene of its pollution. But 
philosophy never taught, the pulpit never enforced, a 
more imperative morality than the itinerary of that ac- 
cursed tour promulgates. Oh ! if there be a maid or 
matron in this island, balancing between the alternative 
of virtue and of crime, trembling between the hell of the 
seducer and the adulterer, and the heaven of the paren- 
tal and the nuptial home, let her pause upon this one out 
of the many horrors I could depict, — and be converted. 
I will give you the relation in the very words of my brief; 
I cannot improve upon the simplicity of the recital : 

" On the 7th of July, they arrived at Milford ; the cap- 
tain of the packet dined with them, and was astonished 
at the magnificence of her dress." (Poor wretch! she 
was decked and adorned for the sacrifice !) '« The next 
day they dined alone. Towards evening, the housemaid, 
passing near their chamber heard Mr. Sterne scolding,' 
and apparently beating her ! In a short time after, Mrs. 
Guthrie rushed out of her chamber into the drawing- 
room, and throwing herself in agony upon the sofa, she 
exclaimed, Oh! what an unhappy wretch I am! — J left 
my home where I was happy, too happy, seduced by a man 
who has deceived me, — My poor husband ! my dear 



SPEECH IN THE CASE OF j 21 

children ! Oh.' if the ij would even let my little Wil- 
liam live with me! — it would be some consolation to mij 



UROKEX HEART f 

"Ala? ! nor children more can she behold, 
Nor friends, nor sacred heme." 

Well might she lament over her fallen fortunes ! well 
might she mourn over the memory of days when the sun 
of heaven seemed to rise but for her happiness ! well 
might she recall the home she had endeared, the chil- 
dren she had nursed, the hapless husband, of whose life 
she was the pulse ! But one short week before, this earth 
could not reveal a lovelier vision : — Virtue blessed, af- 
fection followed, beauty beamed on her; the light of 
every eye, the charm of every heart, she moved along 
the cloudless chastity, cheered by the song of lore, and 
circled by the splendours she created ! Behold her now, 
the loathsome refuse of an adulterous bed ; festering in 
the very infection of her crime ; the scoff and scorn of 
their unmanly, merciless, inhuman author ! But thus it 
ever is with the votaries of guilt ; the birth of their 
crime is the death of their enjoyment; and the wretch 
who flings his offering on its altar, falls an immediate 
victim to the flame of his devotion. I am glad it is so ; it 
is a wise, retributive dispensation ; it bears the stamp of 
a preventive Providence. I rejoice it is so, in the pre- 
sent instance, flrst, because this premature infliction 
must ensure repentance in the wretched sufferer: and 
next, because, as this adulterous Send lias rather acted 



i%% 



6UTHRIE V. STERNE. 



on the suggestions of his nature than his shape, by re- 
belling against the finest impulse of man, he has made 
himself an outlaw from the sympathies of humanity. — 
Why should he expect that charity from you, which he 
would not spare even to the misfortunes he had inflicted ? 
For the honour of the form in which he is disguised, I 
am willing to hope he was so blinded by his vice, that 
he did not see the full extent of those misfortunes.' If he 
had feelings capable of being touched, it Is not to the fa- 
ded victim of her own weakness, and of his wickedness, 
that I would direct them. There is something in her 
crime which affrights charity from its commiseration. 
But, Gentlemen, there is one, over whom pity may 
mourn, — for he is wretched ; and mourn without a blush, 
—for he is guiltless. How shall I depict to you the de- 
serted husband ? To every other object in this catalogue 
of calamity there is some stain attached which checks 
compassion. — But here — Oh ! if ever there was a man 
amiable, it was that man. Oh ! if ever there* was a hus- 
band fond, it was that husband. His hope, his joy, his 
ambition was domestic ; his toils were forgotten in the 
affections of his home ; and amid every adverse variety 
of fortune, hope pointed to his children, — and he was 
comforted. By this vile act that hope is blasted, that 
house is a desert, those children are parentless ! In vain 
do they look to their surviving parent : his heart is bro- 
k< n, : iis mind is in ruins, his \e\y form is fading from the 
earth. He had one consolation, an aged mother, on 
whose life the remnant of his fortunes hung, and on 



SPEECH IN THE CASE OP |gg 

whose protection of his children his remaining prospects 
rested; even that is over ;— she could not survive his 
shame, she never raised her head, she became hearsed in 
his misfortune ;— -he has followed her funeral. If this 
be not the climax of human misery, tell me in what does 
human misery consist ? Wife, parent, fortune, prospects, 
happiness,— all gone at once,— and gone for ever ! For 
my part, when I contemplate this, I do not wonder at 
the impression it has produced on him ; I do not wonder 
at the faded form, the dejected air, the emaciated coun- 
tenance, and all the ruinous and mouldering trophies, by 
which misery has marked its triumph over youth, and 
health, and happiness ? I know, that the hordes of what 
is called fashionable life, there is a sect of philosophers, 
wonderfully patient of their fellow-creatures' sufferings ; 
men too insensible to feel for any one, or too selfish to 
feel for others. I trust there is not one amongst you who 
can even hear of such calamities without affliction; or, 
if there be, I pray that he may never know their import 
by experience; that having, in the wilderness of this 
world, but one dear and darling object, without who^e 
participation bliss would be joyless, and in whose sym- 
pathies sorrow has found a charm; whose smile has 
cheered his toil, whose love has pillowed his misfortunes, 
whose angel spirit, guiding him through danger, and 
darkness, and despair, amijl the world's frown and tha 
friend's perfidy, was more than friend, and world, and 
all to him ! God forbid, that by a villain's wile, or a 
villain's wickedness, he should be taught how to appre- 



i 



GUTHRIE V. STERNE. 



ciate the wo of others in the dismal solitude of his own. 
Oh, no ! I feel that I address myself to human beings, 
who, knowing the value of what the world is worth, are 
capable of appreciating all that makes it dear to us. 

Observe, however, — lest this crime should want ag- 
gravation — observe, I beseech you, the period, of its ac- 
complishment. My client was not so young as that the 
elasticity of his spirit could rebound and bear him above 
the pressure of the misfortune, nor was he withered by 
age into a comparative insensibility ; but just at that 
temperate interval of manhood, when passion had ceased 
to play, and reason begins to operate ; when love, grati- 
fied, left him nothing to desire ; and fidelity, long tried, 
left him nothing to apprehend : he was just too, at that 
period of his professional career, when, his patient in- 
dustry having conquered the ascent, he was able to look 
around him from the height on which he rested. For 
this, welcome had been the day of tumult, and the pale 
midnight lamp succeeding ; welcome had been the drudg- 
ery of form; welcome the analysis of crime ; welcome 
the sneer of envy^ and the scorn of dulness, and all the 
spurns which ''patient merit of the unworty takes." For 
this he had encountered, perhaps the generous rivalry of 
genius, perhaps the biting blasts of poverty, perhaps 
the efforts of that deadly slander, which, coiling round 
the cradle of his young ambition, might have sought to 
crush Mm in its envenomed foldings. 



SPEECH IN THE CASE OF 



125 



(i Ah ! wlio can tell how hard it is to climb 

The steep where Fame's proud temple shines afar ? 

Ah ! who can tell how many a soul sublime 

Hath felt the influence of malignant star, 

And waged with fortune an eternal war?" 

Can such an injury as this admit of justification ? I think 
the learned counsel will concede it cannot. But it may 
be palliated. Let us see how. Perhaps the defendant 
was young and thoughtless; perhaps unmerited prospe- 
rity raised him above the pressure of misfortune ; and 
the wild pulses of impetuous passion impelled him to a 
purpose at which his experience would have shuddered. 
Quite the contrary. The noon of manhood has almost 
passed over him; and a youth, spent in the recesses of a 
debtor's prison, made him familiar with every form of 
human misery : he saw what misfortune was ; — it did 
not teach him pity : he saw the effects of guilt ; — he 
spurned the admonition. Perhaps in the solitude of a 
single life, he had never known the social blessedness 
of marriage; — he has a wife and children ; or, if she be 
not his wife, she is the victim of his crime, and adds 
another to the calendar of his seduction. Certain it is, 
he has little children, who think themselves legitimate; 
will his advocates defend him, by proclaiming their bas- 
tardy ? Certain it is, there is a wretched female, his own 
•ousin too, who thinks herself his wife ; will they pro- 
tect him, by proclaimiug he has only deceived her into 
being his prostitute ? Perhaps his crime, as in the cele- 



186 



GUTHRIE V. STERNE. 



brated case of Howard, immortalized by Lord Erskine f 
may have found its origin in parental cruelty i it might 
perhaps have been that in their spring of life, when fancy 
waved her fairy wand around them, till all above was 
sun-shine, and all beneath was flowers ; when to their 
clear and charmed vision this ample world was but a 
weedless garden, where every tint spoke Nature's love- 
liness, and every sound breathed Heaven's melody, and 
every breeze was but embodied fragrance ; it might 
have been that, in this cloudless holiday, Love wove his 
roseate bondage round them, till their young hearts so 
grew together, a separate existence ceased, and life it- 
self became a sweet identity ; it might have been that, 
envious of this paradise, some worse than demon tore 
them from each other to pine for years in absence, and 
at length to perish in a palliated impiety. Oil ! Gentle- 
men, in such a case, Justice herself, with her uplifted 
sword, would call on Mercy to preserve the victim. 
There was no such palliation : — the period of their ac- 
quaintance was little more than sufficient for the matu- 
rity of their crime ; and they dare not libel Love, by 
shielding under its soft and sacred name the loathsome 
revels of an adulterous depravity. It might have been, the 
husband's cruelty left a too easy inroad for seduction. 
Will they dare to assert it ? Ah ! too well they knew he 
would not let " the winds of heaven visit her face too 
roughly." Monstrous as it is, I have heard, indeed, that 
they mean to rest upon an opposite palliation ; I have 
heard it rumoured, that they mean to rest the wife's in- 



SPEECH IN THE CASE OF 



i27 



fidelity upon the husband's fondness. I know that guilt, 
in its conception mean, and in its commission tremulous, 
is, in its exposure, desperate and audacious. I know 
that, in the fugitive panic of its retreat it will stop to 
fling its Parthian poison upon the justice that pursues it. 
But I do hope, bad and abandoned, and hopeless as their 
cause is, — I do hope, for the name of human nature, that 
I have been deceived in the rumours of this unnatural 
defence. Merciful God ! is it in the presence of this ve- 
nerable Court, is it in the hearing of this virtuous jury, 
is it in the zenith of an enlightened age, that I am to be 
told, because female tenderness was not watched with 
worse than Spanish vigilance, and harrassed with worse 
than eastern severity ,* because the marriage-contract is 
not converted into the curse of incarceration ; because 
woman is allowed the dignity of a human soul, and man 
does not degrade himself into a human monster ; because 
the vow of endearment is not made the vehicle of decep- 
tion, and the altar's pledge is not become the passport of 
a barbarous perjury ; and that too in a land of courage 
and chivalry, where the female form has been held as a 
patent direct from the Divinity, bearing in its chaste 
and charmed helplessness the assurance of its strength, 
and the amulet of its protection : am I to be told, that 
the demon adulterer is therefore not only to perpetrate 
his crimes, but to vindicate himself, through the very 
virtues he has violated? I cannot believe it; I dismiss 
the supposition : it is most u monstrous, foul, and unna- 
tural." Suppose that the plaintiff pursued a different 



128 



GUTHRIE V. STERNE. 



principle ; suppose, that his conduct had been the reverse 
of what it was ; suppose, that in place of being kind, he 
had been cruel to this deluded female ; that he had been 
her tyrant, not her protector ; her gaoler, not her hus- 
band : what then might have been the defence of the 
adulterer ? Might he not then say, and say with spe- 
ciousness, 4< True, I seduced her into crime, but it was 
to save her from cruelty ; true, she is my adultress, 
because he was her despot" Happily, Gentlemen, he 
can say no such thing. 1 have heard it said, too, dur- 
ing the ten months of calumny, for which, by every spe- 
cies of legal delay, they have procrastinated this trial, 
that, next to the impeachment of the husband's tender- 
ness, they mean to rely on what they libel as the levity 
of their unhappy victim ! I know not by what right any 
man, but above all, a married man, presumes to scruti- 
nize into the conduct of a married female. I know not, 
Gentlemen, how you would feel, under the consciousness 
that every coxcomb was at liberty to estimate the warmth, 
or the coolness of your wives, by the barometer of his 
vanity, that he might ascertain precisely the prudence 
of his invasion on their virtue. But I do know, that 
such a defence, coining from such a quarter, would not 
at all surprise me. Poor — unfortunate — fallen female ! 
How can she expect mercy from her destroyer ? How 
can she expect that he will revere the character he was 
careless of preserving ? How can she suppose that, after 
having made her peace the pander of his appetite, he 
will not make her reputation the victim of his avarice? 



SPEECH IX THE CASE OF j»q 

Such a defence is quite to be expected : knowing him, it 
will not surprise me ; if I know you, it will not avail him. 
Having now shown you, that a crime almost unprece- 
dented in this country, is clothed in every aggravation, 
and robbed of every palliative, it is natural you should 
inquire, what was the motive for its commission ? What 
do you think it was? Providentially — miraculously, I 
should have said, for you never could have divined — the 
Defendant has himself disclosed it. What do you think 
it was, Gentlemen? dmbition ! But a few days before 
this criminality, in answer to a friend, who rebuked him 
for the almost princely expenditure of his habits, " Oh," 
says he, "never mind ; Sterne must do something by which 
Sterne may be known!'' I had heard, indeed, that ambition 
was a vice, but then a vice so equivocal, it verged on virtue; 
that it was the aspiration of a spirit, sometimes perhaps 
appalling, always magnificent; that though its grasp 
might be fate, and its flight might be famine, still it re- 
posed on earth's pinnacle, and played in heaven's light- 
nings ; that though it might fall in ruins, it arose in fire, 
and was with all so splendid, that even the horrors of 
that fall became immerged and mitigated in the beau- 
ties of that aberration ! But here is an ambition ! — base 
and barbarous and illegitimate ; with all the grossness 
of the vice, with none of the grandeur of the virtue ; a 
mean, muffled, dastard incendiary, who, in the silence of 
sleep, and in the shades of midnight, steals his Ephesian 
torch into the fane, which it was virtue to adore, and 
worse than sacrilege to have violated ! 

R 



130 



GUTHRIE V. STERNE. 



Gentlemen, my part is done ; yours is about to com- 
mence. You have heard this crime — its origin, its pro- 
gress, its aggravations, its novelty among us. Go and 
tell your children and your country, whether or .not it is 
to be made a precedent. Oh, how awful is your respon- 
sibility ! I do not doubt that you will discharge your- 
selves of it as becomes your characters. I am sure, in- 
deed, that you will mourn with me over the almost soli- 
tary defect in our otherwise matchless system of juris- 
prudence, which leaves the perpetrators of such an in- 
jury as this, subject to no amercement but that of 
money. I think you will lament the failure of the great 
Cicero of our age, to bring such an offence within tht 
cognisance of a criminal jurisdiction : it was a subject 
suited to his legislative mind, worthy of his feeling heart, 
worthy of his immortal eloquence, I cannot, my Lord, 
even remotely allude to Lord Erskine, without gratifying 
myself by saying of him, that, by the rare union of all 
that was learned in law with all that was lucid in elo- 
quence ; by the singular combination of all that was 
pure in morals with all that was profound in wisdom ; 
he has stamped upon every action of his life the blended 
authority of a great mind, and an unquestionable con- 
viction. I think, Gentlemen, you will regret the failure 
of such a man in such an object. The merciless mur- 
derer may have manliness to plead ; the highway rob- 
ber may have want to palliate ; yet they both are ob- 
jects of criminal infliction : but the murderer of connu- 
bial bliss, who commits his crime in secrecy ; — the rob- 



SPEECHES IN THE CASK OF ^3^ 

ber of domestic joys, whose very wealth, as in this case, 
may be his instrument;— he is suffered to calculate on 
the infernal fame which a superfluous and unfelt expen- 
diture may purchase. The law, however, is so : and we 
must only adopt the remedy it affords us. In our adju- 
dication of that remedy, I do not ask too much, when I 
ask the full extent of your capability; how poor, even, 
so, is the wretched remuneration for an injury which 
nothing can repair, — for a loss which nothing can alle- 
viate? Do you think that a mine could recompense my 
client for the forfeiture of her who was dearer than life 
to him? 

# Oh, had she been but true, 
Though heaven had made him such another world, 
Of one entire and perfect chrysolite 
He'd not exchange her for it !* 

I put it to any of you, what would you take to stand 
in his situation ? What would you take to have your 
prospects blasted, your profession despoiled, your peace 
ruined, your bed profaned, your parents heart-broken, 
your children parentless ? Believe me, Gentlemen, if it 
were not for those children, he would not come here to- 
day to seek such remuneration ; if it were not that, by 
your verdict, you may prevent those little innocent de- 
frauded wretches from wandering beggars, as well as 
orphans, on the face of this earth. Oh, I know I need 
not ask this verdict from your mercy ; I need not extort 
it from your compassion ; I will receive it from your 
justice. I do conjure you, not as fathers, but as hus- 



132 



GUTHRIE V. STERNE. 



bands ; — not as husbands, but as citizens ; — not as citi- 
zens, but as men ; — not as men, but as Christians ; — by 
all your obligations, public, private, moral, and reli- 
gious ; by the hearth profaned ; by the home desolated ; 
by the canons of the living God foully spurned ; — save, 
oh ! save your fire-sides from the contagion, your coun- 
try from the crime, and perhaps thousands, yet unborn, 
from the shame, and sin, and sorrow of this example ! 



SPEECH 



or 
MR. PHILLIPS 

IN 

THE CASE OF O'MULLAN v. M'KORKILL. 

DELIVERED IN 

THE COUNTY COURT-HOUSE, GALWAY. 



Mtj Lords and Gentlemen, 

I AM instructed, as of counsel for the Plaintiff, to 
state to you the circumstances in which this action has 
originated. It is a source to me, I will confess it, of 
much personal embarrassment. Feebly, indeed, can I 
attempt to convey to you, the feelings with which a 
perusal of this brief has affected me ; painful to you must 
be my inefficient transcript — painful to all who have the 
common feelings of country or of kind, must be this cala- 
mitous compendium of all that degrades our individual 
nature, and of all that has, for many an age of sorrow, 
perpetuated a curse upon our national character. It is, 



184 



SPEECH IN THE CASE OF 



perhaps, the misery of this profession, that every hour 
our vision may be blasted by some withering crime, and 
our hearts wrung with some agonizing recital ; there is 
no frightful form of vice, or no disgusting phantom of 
infirmity, which guilt does not array in spectral train 
before us. Horrible is the assemblage ! humiliating the 
application ! but, thank God, even amid those very scenes 
of disgrace and of debasement, occasions oft arise for 
the redemption of our dignity ; occasions, on which the 
virtues breathed into us, by heavenly inspiration, walk 
abroad in the divinity of their exertion; before whose 
beam the wintry robe falls from the form of virtue, and 
all the midnight images of horror vanish into nothing. 
Joyfully and piously do I recognise such an occasion ; 
gladly do I invoke you to the generous participation ; 
yes, Gentlemen, though you must prepare to hear much 
that degrades our nature, much that distracts our coun- 
try — though all that oppression could devise against the 
poor — though all that persecution could inflict upon the 
feeble — though all that vice could wield against the pious 
— though all that the venom of a venal turpitude could 
pour upon the patriot, must with their alternate appari- 
tion afflict, affright, and humiliate you, still do I hope, 
that over the charnel-house of crime — over this very 
sepulchre, where corruption sits enthroned upon the me- 
rit it has murdered, that voice is at length about to be 
heard, at which the martyred victim will arise to vindi- 
cate the ways of Providence, and prove that even in its 



O'MULLAN V. M'KORKILL. 455 

worst adversity there is a might and immortality in 
yirtue. 

The Plaintiff, Gentlemen, you have heard, is the Rev. 
Cornelius O'Mullan ; he is a clergyman of the church of 
Rome, and became invested with that venerable appella- 
tion, so far back as September, 1 804. It is a title which 
you know, in this country, no rank ennobles, no treasure 
enriches, no establishment supports ; its possessor stands 
undisguised by any rag of this world's decoration, rest- 
ing all temporal, all eternal hope upon his toil, his talents, 
his attainments, and his piety — doubtless, after all, the 
highest honours, as well as the most imperishable trea- 
sures of the man of God. Year after year passed over 
my client, and each anniversary only gave him an addi- 
tional title to these qualifications. His precept was but 
the handmaid to his practice; the sceptic heard him, 
and was convinced ; the ignorant attended him, and were 
taught; he smoothed the death-bed of too heedless 
wealth ; he rocked the cradle of the infant charity; oh, 
no wonder he walked in the sunshine of the public eye, 
no wonder he toiled through the pressure of the public 
benediction. This is not an idle declamation ; such was 
the result his ministry produced, that within five years 
from the date of its commencement, nearly £000/. of vo- 
luntary subscription enlarged the temple where such 
precepts were taught, and such piety exemplified. Suck 
was the situation of Mr. O'Mullan, when a dissolution of 
parliament took place, and an unexpected contest for the 
representation of Berry, threw that county into unusual 



|36 SPEECH IX THE CASE OF 

commotion. One of the candidates was of the Ponsonby 
family — a family devoted to the interests, and dear to 
the heart of Ireland ; he naturally thought that his par- 
liamentary conduct entitled him to the vote of every Ca- 
tholic in the land ; and so it did, not only of every Ca- 
tholic, but of every Christian who preferred the diffusion 
of the Gospel to the ascendency of a sect, and loved the 
principles of the constitution better than the pretensions 
of a party. Perhaps you will think with me, that there 
is a sort of posthumous interest thrown about that event, 
when I tell you, that the candidate on that occasion was 
the lamented Hero over whose tomb the tears, not only 
of Ireland, but of Europe, have been so lately shed ; he 
who, mid the blossom of the world's chivalry, died con- 
quering a deathless name upon the field of Waterloo. 
He applied to Mr. O'Mullan for his interest, and that 
interest was cheerfully given, the concurrence of his 
bishop having been previously obtained. Mr. Ponsonby 
succeeded ; and a dinner, to which all parties were invit- 
ed, and from which all party spirit was expected to 
absent itself, was given to commemorate one common 
triumph — the purity and the privileges of election. In 
other countries, such an expectation might be natural ; 
the exercise of a noble constitutional privilege, the tri- 
umph of a great popular cause, might not unaptly expand 
itself in the intercourse of the board, and unite all hearts 
in the natural bond of festive commemoration. But, 
alas, Gentlemen, in this unhappy land, such has been the 
result, whether of our faults, our follies, or our misfor- 



O'MULLAX V. M'KORKILL. *gy 

times, that a detestable disunion converts the very halm 
of the bowl into poison, commissioningits vile and harpy 
offspring, to turn even our festivity into famine. My 
client was at this dinner ; it was not to be endured that a 
Catholic should pollute with his presence the civic festi- 
vities of the loyal Londonderry ! such an intrusion, even 
the acknowledged sanctity of his character could not ex- 
cuse ; it became necessary to insult him. There is a 
toast, which, perhaps, few in this united country are in 
the habit of hearing, but it is the invariable watchword of 
the Orange orgies,* it is briefly entitled '-The glorious, 
pious, and immortal memory of the great and good 
King William." I have no doubt the simplicity of your 
understandings is puzzled how to discover any offence in 
the commemoration of the Revolution Hero. The loya- 
lists of Derry are more wise in their generation. There, 
when some Bacchanalian bigots wish to avert the intru- 
sive visitations of their own memory, they commence by 
violating the memory of King William*. Those who 
happen to have shoes or silver in their fraternity — no 
very usual occurrence — thank His Majesty that the 
shoes are not wooden, and that the silver is not brass, a 



* This loyal toast handed down by Orange tradition, is literally as 
follows, — we give it for the edification of the sister island- 

" The* glorious, pious, and immortal memory of the great and good 
King William, who saved us from Pope and Popery, James and slavery, 
brass money and wooden shoes,- here is bad luck to the Pope, and a 
hempen rope to all Papists- " 

It is drank kneeling, if they cannot stand, nine times nine, amid vari- 
ous inysteries which none but the elect can comprehend. 



|38 SPEECH IN THE CASE OF 

commodity, by the bye, of which any legacy would have 
been quite superfluous. The Pope comes in for a pious 
benediction; and the toast concludes with a patriotic 
wish, for all his persuasion, by the consummation of 
which there can be no doubt, the hempen manufactures of 
this country would experience a \ery considerable con- 
sumption. Such, Gentlemen, is the enlightened, and 
liberal, and social sentiment of which the first sentence, 
all that is usually given, forms the suggestion. I must 
not omit that it is generally taken standing, always 
providing it be in the power of the company. This toast 
was pointedly given to insult Mr. O'Mullan. Naturally 
averse to any altercation, his most obvious course was 
to quit the company, and this he did immediately. He 
was, however, as immediately recalled by an intimation, 
that the Catholic question, and might its claims be con- 
sidered justly and liberally, had been toasted as a peace- 
offering by Sir George Hill, the City Recorder. My 
client had no gall in his disposition ; he at once clasped 
to bis heart the friendly overture, and in such phrase as 
his simplicity supplied, poured forth the gratitude of that 
heart to the liberal recorder. Poor O'Mullan had the 
wisdom to imagine that the politician's compliment was 
the man's conviction, and that a table toast was the cer- 
tain prelude to a parliamentary suffrage. Despising all 
experience, he applied the adage, Codum non animum 
mutant qui trans mare currant, to the Irish patriot. I 
need not paint to you the consternation of Sir George, at 
so unusual and so unparliamentary a construction. He 



O'MULLAN V. M'KORKILL. f gg 

indignantly disclaimed the intention imputed to him, de- 
nied and deprecated the unfashionable inference, and 
acting on the broad scale of an impartial policy, gave to 
one party the weight of his vote, and to the other, the (no 
doubt in his opinion) equally valuable acquisition of his 
eloquence ; by the way, no unusual compromise amongst 
modern politicians. 

The proceedings of this dinner soon became public. 
Sir George 1 , you may be sure, was little in love with his 
notoriety. However, Gentlemen, the sufferings of the 
powerful are seldom without sympathy ; if they receive 
not the solace of the disinterested and the sincere, they 
are at least sure to find a substitute in the miserable pro- 
fessions of an interested hypocrisy. Who could imagine, 
that Sir George, of all men, was to drink from the spring 
of Catholic consolation ? yet so it happened. Two men 
of that communion had the hardihood and the servility, 
to frame an address to him, reflecting upon the pastor, 
who was its pride, and its ornament. This address, with 
the most obnoxious commentaries, was instantly publish- 
ed by the Derry Journalist, who from that hour, down 
to the period of his ruin, has never ceased to persecute 
my client, with all that the most deliberate falsehood 
could invent, and all that the most infuriate bigotry 
could perpetrate. This journal, I may as well now des- 
cribe to you; it is one of the numerous publications 
which the misfortunes of this unhappy land have gene- 
rated, and which has grown into considerable affluence 
by the sad contributions of the public calamity. There 






j 40 SPEECH IN THE CASE OF 

is not a provincial village in Ireland, which some such 
official fiend does not infest, fabricating a gazette of 
fraud and falsehood, upon all who presume to advocate 
her interests, or uphold the ancient religion of her peo- 
ple ; — the worst foes of government, under pretence of 
giving it assistance ; the deadliest enemies to the Irish 
name, under the mockery of supporting its character ; 
the most licentious, irreligious, illiterate banditti, that 
ever polluted the fair fields of literature, under the spo- 
liated banner of the press. Bloated with the public 
spoil, and blooded in the chase of character, no abilities 
can arrest, no piety can awe ; no misfortune affect, no 
benevolence conciliate them ; the reputation of the living, 
and the memory of the dead, are equally plundered in 
their desolating progress ; even the awful sepulchre 
affords not an asylum to their selected victim. Human 
Hyenas ! they will rush into the sacred receptacle of 
death, gorging their ravenous and brutal rapine, amid 
the memorials of our last infirmity ! Such is a too true 
picture of what I hope unauthorisedly misnames itself 
the ministerial press of Ireland. Amid that polluted 
^ press, it is for you to say, whether The Londonderry 
Journal stands on an infamous elevation. When this 
address was published in the name of the Catholics, 
that calumniated body, as was naturally to be expected, 
became universally indignant. 

You may remember, Gentlemen, amongst the many 
expedients resorted to by Ireland, for the recovery of 
her rights, after she had knelt session after session at 



O'MULLAN V. M'KOttKILL. 44^ 

the bar of the legislature, covered with the wounds of 
glory, and praying redemption from the chains that reward- 
ed them; — you may remember, I say, amongst many 
vain expedients of supplication and remonstrance, her 
Catholic population delegated a board to consult on their 
affairs, and forward their petition. Of that body, fashi- 
onable as the topic has now become, far be it from me 
to speak with disrespect. It contained much talent, 
much integrity ; and it exhibited what must ever be to 
me an interesting spectacle, a great body of my fellow 
men, and fellow-christians, claiming admission into that 
constitution which their ancestors had achieved by their 
valour, and to which they were entitled as their inheri- 
tance. This is no time, this is no place for the dis- 
cussion of that question ; but since it does force itself 
incidentally upon me, I will say, that as on the one hand, 
I cannot fancy a despotism more impious, or more inhu- 
man, than the political debasement here, on account of 
that faith by which men hope to win an happy eternity 
hereafter ; so on the other, I cannot fancy a vision 

IN ITS ASPECT MORE DIVINE THAN THE ETERNAL 
CROSS RED WITH THE MARTYR ? S BLOOD, AND RADIANT 
WITH THE PILGRIM'S HOPE, REARED BY THE PATRIOT 
AND THE CHRISTIAN HAND HIGH IN THE VAN OF UNI- 
VERSAL liberty. Of this board the two volunteer fra- 
mers of the address happened to be members. The body 
who deputed them, instantly assembled and declared their 
delegation void. You would suppose, Gentlemen, that 
after this decisive public brand of reprobation, those ofli- 



142 



SPEECH IN THE CASE OF 



cious meddlers would have avoided its recurrence, by 
retiring from scenes for which nature and education had 
totally unfitted them. Far, however, from acting under 
any sense of shame, those excluded outcasts even sum- 
moned a meeting to appeal from the sentence the public 
opinion had pronounced on them. The meeting assem- 
bled, and after almost the day's deliberation on their 
conduct, the former sentence was unanimously confirmed. 
The men did not deem it prudent to attend themselves, 
but at a late hour, when the business was concluded, 
when the resolutions had passed, when the chair was 
vacated, when the multitude was dispersing, they attempt- 
ed with some Orange followers to obtrude into the cha- 
pel, which in large cities, such as Derry, is the usual 
place of meeting. An angry spirit arose among the 
people. Mr. O'Mullan, as was his duty, locked the 
doors to preserve the house of God from profanation, and 
addressed the crowd in such terms, as induced them to 
repair peaceably to their respective habitations. I need 
not paint to you the bitter emotions with w hich these de- 
servedly disappointed men were agitated. All hell was 
at work within them, and a conspiracy was hatched 
against the peace of my client, the vilest, the foulest, the 
most infernal that ever vice devised, or demons executed. 
Restrained from exciting a riot by his interference, they 
actually swore a riot against him, prosecuted him to 
conviction, worked on the decaying intellect of his 
bishop to desert him, and amid the savage war-whoop of 
this slanderous Journal, all along inflaming the public 



O'MULIAN V. M'KORKILL. 



143 



mind by libels the most atrocious, finally flung this poor, 
religious, unoffending priest, into a damp and desolate 
dungeon, where the very iron that bound, had more of 
humanity than the despots that sin rounded him. I am 
told, they triumph much in this conviction. I seek not 
to impugn the verdict of that jury ; I have no doubt they 
acted conscientiously. It weighs not with me that every 
member of my client's creed was carefully excluded 
from that jury — no doubt they acted conscientiously. It 
weighs not with me that every man impannelled on the 
trial of the priest, was exclusively Protestant, and that, 
too, in a city, so prejudiced, that not long ago, by their 
Corporation-law, no Catholic dare breath the air of 
Heaven within its wails — no doubt they acted conscien- 
tiously. It weighs not with me, that not three days 
previously, one of that jury was heard publicly to de- 
clare, he wished he could persecute the Papist to his 
death— no doubt they acted conscientiously. It weighs not 
with me, that the public mind had been so inflamed by 
the exasperation of this libeller, that an impartial trial 
was utterly impossible. Let them enjoy their triumph. 
But for myself, knowing him as I do, here in the teeth of 
that conviction, I declare it, I would rather be that man, 
so aspersed, so imprisoned, so persecuted, and have his 
conscientiousness, than stand the highest of the courtliest 
rabble that ever crouched before the foot of power, or 
fed upon the people — plundered alms of despotism. Oh, 
of short duration is such demoniac triumph. Oh, blind 
and groundless is the hope of vice, imagining its victory 



144 



SPEECH IN THE CASE OF 



can be more than for the moment. Tliis very day T hope 
will prove that if virtue suffers, it is but for a season ; 
and that sooner or later, their patience tried, and their 
purity testified, prosperity will crown the interests of 
probity and worth. 

Perhaps you imagine, Gentlemen, that his person im- 
prisoned, his profession gone, his prospects ruined, and 
what he held dearer than all, his character defamed; the 
malice of his enemies might have rested from persecu- 
tion. " Thus bad begins, but worse remains behind." 
Attend, I beseech you, to what now follows, because I 
have come in order, to the particular libel, which we 
have selected from the innumerable calumnies of this 
Journal, and to which we call your peculiar considera- 
tion. Business of moment, to the nature of which, I 
shall feel it my duty presently to advert, called Mr. 
CTMullan to the metropolis. Through the libels of the 
Defendant, he was at this time in disfavour with his 
bishop, and a rumour had gone abroad, that he was ne- 
ver again to revisit his ancient congregation. The 
Bishop in the interim returned to Derry, and on the 
Sunday following, went to officiate at the parish chapel. 
All ranks crowded tremulously round him; the widow 
sought her guardian ; the orphan his protector; the 
poor their patron; the rich their guide; the ignorant 
their pastor; all, all, with one voice, demanded his 
recall, by whose absence the graces, the charities, the 
virtues of life, were left orphans in their communion. 
Can you imagine a more interesting spectacle ? The 



O'MULLAN V. M'KORKILL. 



145 



human mind never conceived — the human hand never 
depicted a more instructive or delightful picture. Yet, 
will you helieve it ! out of this very circumstance, the 
Defendant fahricated the most audacious, and if possihle, 
the most cruel of his Libels. Hear his words ; — 4 < O'Mul- 
lan," says he "w as convicted and degraded, for assault- 
ing his own Bishop, and the Recorder of Derry, in the 
parish chapel V Observe the disgusting malignity of the 
Libel — observe the crowded damnation which it accumu- 
lates on my client — observe all the aggravated crime 
which it embraces. — First, he assaults his venerable Bi- 
shop — the great Ecclesiastical Patron, to whom he was 
sworn to be obedient, and against whom he never conceiv- 
ed or articulated irreverence. Next, he assaults the Re- 
corder of Derry — a Privy Councillor, the supreme muni- 
cipal authority of the City. And where does he do so ? 
Gracious God, in the very temple of thy worship ! That 
is, says the inhuman Libeller — he a citizen — he a Cler- 
gyman insulted not only the civil but the ecclesiastical 
authorities, in the face of man, and in the house of prayer; 
trampling contumeliously upon all human law, amid the 
sacred altars, where he belived the Almighty witnessed 
the profanation ! I am so horror-struck at this blasphe- 
mous and abominable turpitude, I can scarcely proceed. 
What will you say, Gentlemen, when I inform you, that at 
the very time this atrocity was imputed to him, he was in 
the city of Dublin, at a distance of 120 miles from the 
venue of its commission ! But, oh ! when calumny once 

T 



440 SPEECH IN THE CASE OF 

begins its work, liow vain are the impediments of time 
and distance! Before the sirocco of its breath all nature 
withers, and age, and sex, and innocence, and station, 
perish in the unseen, but certain desolation of its pro- 
gress ! Do you wonder O'Mullan sunk before these ac- 
cumulated calumnies; do you wonder the feeble were 
intimidated, the wavering decided, the prejudiced con- 
firmed? He was forsaken by his Bishop; he was de- 
nounced by his enemies — bis very friends fled in con- 
sternation from the " stricken deer f> he was banished 
from the scenes of his childhood, from the endearments 
of his youth, from the field of his fair and honourable 
ambition. In vain did he resort to strangers for subsis- 
tence ; on the very wings of the wind, the calumny pre- 
ceded him ; and from that hour to this, a too true apostle, 
he has been " a man of sorrows," " not knowing where 
to lay his head." I will not appeal to your passions ; 
alas ! how inadequate am I to depict his sufferings; you 
must take them from the evidence. I have told you, that 
at the time of those infernally fabricated libels, the 
Plaintiff was in Dublin, and I promised to advert to the 
cause by which his absence was occasioned. 

Observing in the course of his parochial duties, the 
deplorable, I had almost said the organized ignorance of 
the Irish peasantry — an ignorance whence all their crimes, 
and most of their sufferings originate ; observing also, 
that there was no publicly established literary institution 
to relieve them, save only to the charter-schools, which 
tendered learning to the shivering child, as a bounty 



G'MULLAN" Y. M^KORKILL. 



i-W 



upon apostacy to the faith of his fathers : he determined 
if p ssibie to give them the lore of this world, without 
offering as a mortgage upon the inheritance of :he next. 
He framed the prospectus of a school, for the education 
of five hundred children, and went to the metropolis to 
obtain subscriptions for the purpose. I need not descant 
, the great general advantage, or to this country the 
peculiarly patriotic consequences, which the success of 
such a plan must have produced. No doubt, you have 
all personally considered — no doubt, you have all per- 
sonally experienced, that of all the blessings which it 
has pleased Providence to allow us to cultivate, there is 
not one which breathes a purer fragrance, or bears a 
heavenlier aspect than education. It is a companion 
which no misfortunes can depress, no clime destroy, no 
enemy alienate, no despotism enslave : at home a friend, 
abroad an introduction, ins ditude a solace, in society an 
ornament, it chastens vice, it guides virtue, it gives at 
once a grace and government to genius. Without it, 
what is man ? A splendid slave \ a reasoning savage, 
vacillating between the dignity of an intelligence derived 
from God, and the degradation of passions participated 
with brutes : and in the accident of their alternate 
ascendency shuddering at the terrors of an hereafter, or 
embracing the horrid hope of annihilation. What is 
this wondrous world of his residence ? 

A mighty maze, and all without a plan ; 



-148 



SPEECH US THE CASE OF 



a dark and desolate and dreary cavern, without wealth, 
or ornament or order. But light up within it the torch 
of knowledge, and how wondrous the transition ! The 
seasons change, the atmosphere breathes, the landscape 
lives, earth unfolds its fruits, ocean rolls in its magnifi- 
cence, the heavens display their constellated canopy, 
and the grand animated spectacle of nature rises reveal- 
ed before him, its varieties regulated, and its mysteries 
resolved ! The phenomena which bewilder, the prejudi- 
ces which debase, the superstitions which enslave, va- 
nish before education. Like the holy symbol which 
blazed upon the cloud before the hesitating Constantino, 
if man follow but its precepts, purely, it will not only 
lead him to the victories of this world, but open the very 
portals of Omnipotence for his admission. Cast your 
eye over the monumental map of ancient grandeur, once 
studded with the stars of empire, and the splendours of 
philosophy. What erected the little state of Athens into 
a powerful commonwealth, placing in her hand the 
sceptre of legislation, and wreathing round her brow the 
imperishable chaplet of literary fame ? what extended 
Rome, the haunt of a banditti, into universal empire? 
what animated Sparta with that high unbending adaman- 
tine courage, which conquered nature herself, and has 
fixed her in the sight of future ages, a model of public 
virtue, and a proverb of national independence? What 
but those wise public institutions which strengthened 
their minds with early application, informed their infan- 
cy with the principles ot action, and sent them into the 



O'MULLAN V. M'KORKILL. ^q 

world, too vigilant to be deceived by its calms, and too 
vigorous to be shaken by its whirlwinds ? But surely, if 
there be a people in the world, to whom the blessings of 
education are peculiarly applicable, it is the Irish people. 
Lively, ardent, intelligent, and sensitive ; nearly all 
their acts spring from impulse, and no matter how that 
impulse be given, it is immediately adopted, and the 
adoption and the execution are identified. It is this 
principle, if principle it can be called, which renders 
Ireland, alternately, the poorest and the proudest coun- 
try in the world ; now chaining her in the very abyss of 
crime, now lifting her to the very pinnacle of glory; 
which in the poor, proscribed, peasant Catholic, crowds 
the gaol and feeds the gibbet ; which in the more fortu- 
nate, because more educated Protestant, leads victory a 
captive at her car, and holds eeho mute at her eloquence ; 
making a national monopoly of fame, and, as it were, 
attempting to naturalize the achievements of the uni- 
verse. In order that this libel may want no possible 
aggravation, the defendant published it when my client 
was absent on this work of patriotism ; he published it 
when he was absent ; he published it when he was absent 
on a work of virtue ; and he published it on all the au- 
thority of his local knowledge, when that very local 
knowledge, must have told him, that it was destitute of 
the shadow of a foundation. Can you imagine a more 
odious complication of all that is deliberate in malignity, 
and all that is depraved in crime ? I promised, Gentle- 
men, that I would not harrow your hearts, by exposing 



I 5Q SPEECH IN THE CASE OF 

all that agonizes mine, in the contemplation of individual 
suffering. There is, however, one subject connected 
with this trial, public in its nature, and universal in its 
interest, which imperiously calls for an exemplary ver- 
dict ; I mean the liberty of the press — a theme which I 
approach witli mingled sensations of awe, and agony, 
and admiration. Considering all that we too fatally 
have seen — all that, perhaps, too fearfully we may have 
cause to apprehend, I feel myself cling to that residuary 
safeguard, with an affection no temptations can seduce, 
with a suspicion no anodyne can lull, with a fortitude 
that peril but infuriates. In the direful retrospect of 
experimental despotism, and the hideous prospect of its 
possible re-animation, I clasp it with the desperation of 
a widowed female, who in the desolation of her house, 
and the destruction of her household, hurries the last of 
her offspring through the flames, at once the relic of her 
joy, the depository of her wealth, and the remembrancer 
of her happiness. It is the duty of us all to guard 
strictly this inestimable privilege — a privilege which 
can never be destroyed, save by the licentiousness of 
those who wilfully abuse it. No, it is not in the 

ARROGANCE OF POWER ; NO, IT IS NOT IN THE ARTIFI- 
CES OF LAW ; NO, IT IS NOT IN THE FATUITY OF PRIN- 
CES ; NO, IT IS NOT IN THE VENALITY OF PARLIAMENTS 
TO CRUSH THIS MIGHTY, THIS MAJESTIC PRIVILEGE; 
REVILED, IT WILL REMONSTRATE; MURDERED, IT WILL 
REVIVE : BURIED, IT WILL RE-ASCEND J THE VERY AT- 
TEMPT AT ITS OPPRESSION WILL PROVE THE TRUTH OF 



O'MULLAN V- M«KORKILL, 454 

ITS IMMORTALITY, AND THE ATOM THAT PRE SUMED TO 
SPURN, WILL FADE AWAY BEFORE THE TRUMPET O* 

its retribution ! Man holds it on the same principle 
that he does his soul : the powers of this world cannot 
prevail against it; it can only perish through its own 
depravity. What then shall be his fate, through whose 
instrumentality it is sacrificed ! Nay more, what shall 
be his fate, who, intrusted with the guardianship of its 
security, becomes the traitorous accessory to its ruin ? 
Nay more, what shall be his fate, by whom its powers 
delegated for the public good, are converted into the cala- 
mities of private virtue ; against whom, industry de- 
nounced, merit undermined, morals calumniated, piety 
aspersed, all through the means confided for their pro- 
tection, cry aloud for vengeance? What shall be his 
fate ? Oh, I would hold such a monster, so protected, so 
sanctified, and so sinning, as I would some demon, who, 
going forth consecrated, in the name of the Deity, the 
book of life on his lips, and the dagger of death beneath 
his robe, awaits the sigh of piety, as the signal of plunder, 
and unveins the heart's blood of confiding adoration! 
Should not such a case as this require some palliation ? 
Is there any r Perhaps the defendant might have been 
misled as to circumstances ? No, he lived upon the spot, 
and had the best possible information. Do you think 
he believed in the truth of the publication ? No ; he- 
knew that in every syllable it was as false as perjury. 
Do you think that an anxiety for the Catholic commu- 
nity might have inflamed him against the imaginary dere- 



io% 



SPEECH IN THE CASE OF 



fiction of its advocate ? No : the very essence of his 
Journal is prejudice. Do you think that in the ardour of 
liberty he might have venially transgressed its bounda- 
ries ? No ! in every line he licks the soares, and pam- 
pers the pestilence of authority. 1 do not ask you to be 
stoics in your investigation. If you can discover in this 
libel one motive inferentially moral, one single virtue 
which he has plundered and misapplied, give him its 
benefit. I will not demand such an effort of your faith, 
as to imagine, that his northern constitution could, by 
any miracle, be fired into the admirable but mistaken 
energy of enthusiasm ;— that he could for one moment 
have felt the inspired phrenzy of those loftier spirits, 
who, under some daring but divine delusion, rise into the 
arch of an ambition so bright, so baneful, yet so beaute- 
ous, as leaves the world in wonder whether it should 
admire or mourn — whether it should weep or worship ! 
No ; you will not only search in vain for such a pallia- 
tive, but you will find this publication springing from 
the most odious origin, and disfigured by the most foul 
accompaniments, founded in a bigotry at which hell 
rejoices, crouching with a sycophancy at which flattery 
blushes, deformed by a falsehood at which perjury would 
hesitate, and to crown the climax of its crowded infa- 
mies, committed under the sacred shelter of the Press ; 
as if this false, slanderous, sycoph antic slave, could not 
assassinate private worth without polluting public privi- 
lege : as if he could not sacrifice the character of the 
pious without profaning the protection of the free ; as if 



O'MULLAN V. M'KORKILL. 



15S 



he could not poison learning, liberty, and religion, un- 
less he filled his chalice from the very font whence they 
might have expected to derive the waters of their salva- 
tion ! 

Now, Gentlemen, as to the measure of your damages : 
You are the best judges on that subject; though, indeed, 
I have been asked, and I heard the question with some 
surprise, — why it is that we have brought this case at all 
to be tried before you. To that I might give at once an 
unobjectionable answer, namely, that the law allowed us. 
But I will deal much more candidly with you. We 
brought it here, because it was as far as possible from 
the scene of prejudice ; because no possible partiality 
could exist ; because, in this happy and united country, 
less of the bigotry which distracts the rest of Ireland 
exists, than in any other with which we are acquainted ; 
because the nature of the action, which we have merci- 
fully brought in place of a criminal prosecution, — the 
^usual course pursued in the present day, at least against 
the independent press of Ireland, — gives them, if they 
have it, the power of proving a justification ; and I per- 
ceive they have emptied half the north here for the pur- 
pose. But I cannot anticipate an objection, which no 
doubt shall not be made. If this habitual libeller should 
characteristically instruct his counsel to hazard it, that 
learned gentleman is much too wise to adopt it, and 
must know you much too well to insult you by its utter- 
ance. What damages, then, Gentlemen, can you give ? 

U 



1^4* SPEECH IN THE CASE OF 

I am content to leave the defendant's crime altogether 
out of the question, but how can you recompense the 
sufferings of my client ? Who shall estimate tlte cost of 
priceless reputation — that impress which gives this hu- 
man dross its currency, without which we stand despised, 
debased, depreciated ? Who shall repair it injured ? Who 
can redeem it lost? Oh ! well and truly does the great 
philosopher of poetry esteem the world's wealth as 
" trash" in the comparison. Without it, gold has no va- 
lue, birth no distinction, station no dignity, beauty no 
charm, age no reverence ; or, should I not rather say, 
without it every treasure impoverishes, every grace de- 
forms, every dignity degrades, and all the arts, the deco- 
rations, and accomplishments of life, stand, like the 
beacon-blaze upon a rock, warning the world that its 
approach is danger — that its contact is death. The 
wretch without it is under an eternal quarantine ; — no 
friend to greet — no home to harbour him. The voyage 
of his life becomes a joyless peril ; and in the midst of y 
all ambition can achieve, or avarice amass, or rapacity 
plunder, he tosses on the surge — a buoyant pestilence/ 
But, Gentlemen, let me not degrade into the selfishness 
of individual safety, or individual exposure, this univer- 
sal principle : it testifies a higher, a more ennobling 
origin. It is this which, consecrating the humble circle 
of the hearth, will at times extend itself to the circum- 
ference of the horizon ; which nerves the arm of the pa- 
triot to save his country ; which lights the lamp of the 



O'MULLAN V. M'KORKIUL. £££ 

philosopher to amend man : which, if it does not inspire, 
will yet invigorate the martyr to merit immortality ; 
which, when one world's agony is passed and the glory 
of another is dawning, will prompt the prophet, even in 
his chariot of fire, and in his vision of heaven, to be- 
queath to mankind the mantle of his memory ! Oh di- 
vine, oh delightful legacy of a spotless reputation i Rich 
is the inheritance it leaves ; pious the example it testi- 
fies ; pure, precious, and imperishable, the hope which it 
inspires ! Can you conceive a more atrocious injury than 
to filch from its possessor this inestimable benefit — to 
rob society of its charm, and solitude of its solace j not 
only to outlaw life, but to attaint death, converting the 
very grave, the refuge of the sufferer, into the gate of 
infamy and of shame ! I can conceive few crimes beyond 
it. He who plunders my property takes from me that 
which can be repaired by time : but what period can 
repair a ruined reputation ? He who maims my person 
affects that which medicine may remedy : but what herb 
has sovereignty over the wounds of slander ? He who 
ridicules my poverty, or reproaches my profession, up- 
braids me with that which industry may retrive, and 
integrity may purify ; but what riches shall redeem the 
Bankrupt fame ? what power shall blanch the sullied 
snow of character? Can there be an injury more deadly ? 
Can there be a crime more cruel ? It is without remedy 
— it is without antidote — it is without evasion I The rep- 
tile calumny is ever on the watch. From the fascina- 



156 



SPEECH IN THE CASE OP 



tion of its eye no activity can escape ; from the venom 
of its fang no sanity can recover. It has no enjoyment 
but crime $ it has no prey but virtue ; it has no interval 
from the restlessness of its malice, save when, bloated 
with its victims, it grovels to disgorge them at the wi- 
thered shrine, where envy idolizes her own infirmities. 
Under such a visitation how dreadful would be the des- 
tiny of the virtuous and the good if the providence of 
our constitution had not given you the power, as, I tryst, 
you will have the principle, to bruise the head of the ser- 
pent, and crush and crumble the altar of its idolatry ! 

And now, Gentlemen, having toiled through tins nar- 
rative of unprovoked and pitiless persecution, I should 
with pleasure consign my client to your hands, if a more 
imperative duty did not still remain to me, and that is, 
to acquit him of every personal motive in the prosecu- 
tion of this action. No ; in the midst of slander, and 
suffering, and severities unexampled, he has had no 
thought, but, that as his enemies evinced how malice 
could persecute, he should exemplify how religion could 
endure ; that if his piety failed to affect the oppressor, 
his patience might at least avail to fortify the afflicted. 
He was as the rock of Scripture before the face of infidel- 
ity. The rain of the deluge had fallen — it only smoothed 
his asperities : the wind of the tempest beat — it only 
blanched his brow : the rod, not of prophecy, but of per- 
secution, smote him ; and the desert, glittering with the 
Gospel dew, became a miracle of the faith it would 



O'MULLAN V. M'KORKILL. 



157 



have tempted ! No, Gentlemen ; not selfishly has he ap- 
pealed to this tribunal ; but the venerable religion wound- 
ed in his character, — but the august priesthood vilified 
in his person, — but the doubts of the sceptical, hardened 
by his acquiescence, — but the fidelity of the feeble, ha- 
zarded by his forbearance, goaded him from the pro- 
faned privacy of the cloister into this repulsive scene of 
public accusation. In him this reluctance springs from 
a most natural and characteristic delicacy : in us it 
would become a most overstrained injustice. No, Gen- 
tlemen : though with him we must remember morals out- 
raged, religion assailed, law violated, the priesthood 
scandalized, the press betrayed, and all the disgusting 
calender of abstract evil ; yet with him we must not re- 
ject the injuries of the individual sufferer. We must 
picture to ourselves a young man, partly by the self-de- 
nial of parental love, partly by the energies of personal 
exertion, struggling into a profession, where, by the 
pious exercise of his talents, he may make the fame, the 
wealth, the flatteries of this world, so many angel he- 
ralds to the happiness of the next. His precept is a 
treasure to the poor ; his practice, a model to the rich. 
When he reproves, sorrow seeks his presence as a sanc- 
tuary ; and in his path of peace, should he pause by the 
death-bed of despairing sin, the soul becomes imparadised 
in the light of his benediction ! Imagine, Gentlemen, 
you see him thus ; and then, if you can, imagine vice so 
desperate as to defraud the world of so fair a vision. 



158 



SPEECH IN THE CASE OF 



Anticipate for a moment the melancholy evidence we 
must too soon adduce to you. Behold him, by foul, de- 
liberate, and infamous calumny, robbed of the profession 
he had so struggled to obtain, swindled from the flock 
he had so laboured to ameliorate, torn from the school 
where infant virtue vainly mourns an artificial orphan- 
age, hunted from the home of his youth, from the friends 
of his heart, a hopeless, fortuneless, companionless ex- 
ile, hanging in some stranger scene, on the precarious 
pity of the few, whose charity might induce their com- 
passion to bestow, what this remorseless slanderer would 
compel their justice to withhold ! I will not pursue this 
picture ; I will not detain you from the pleasure of your 
possible compensation ; for oh [ divine is the pleasure 
you are destined to experience ; — dearer to your hearts 
shall be the sensation, than to your pride shall be the dig- 
nity it will give you. What ! though the people will 
hail the saviours of their pastor : what ! though the 
priesthood will hallow the guardians of their brother $ 
though many a peasant heart will leap at your name, and 
many an infant eye will embalm their fame who restored 
to life, to station, to dignity, to character, the venerable 
friend who taught their trembling tongues to lisp the 
rudiments of virtue and religion, still dearer than all 
will be the consciousness of the deed. Nor, believe me, 
countrymen, will it rest here. Oh no ! if there be light in 
instinct, or truth in Revelation, believe me, at that awful 
hour, when you shall await the last inevitable verdict* 



O'MULLAN V. M'KORKILL. 



159 



the eye of your hope will not be the less bright, nor the 
agony of your ordeal the more acute, because you shall 
have, by this day's deed, redeemed the Almighty's per- 
secuted Apostle, from the grasp of an insatiate malice — 
from the fang of a worse than Philistine persecution. 



SPEECH 



IN 

THE CASE OF CONNAGHTON v. DILLON 

DELIVERED IN 

THE COUNTY COURT-HOUSE 

OF 

ROSOMMON. 



My Lord and Gentlemen, 

IN this case I am one of the counsel for the Plain- 
tiff, who has directed me to explain to you the wrongs 
for which, at your hands, he solicits reparation. It ap- 
pears to me a case which undoubtedly merits much con- 
sideration, as well from the novelty of its appearance 
amongst us, as for the circumstances by which it is at- 
tended. Nor am I ashamed to say, that in my mind, 
not the least interesting of those circumstances is the 
poverty of the man who has made this appeal to me. Few 
are the consolations which soothe — hard must be the 
heart which does not feel for him. He is, Gentlemen, a 



SPEECH IX THE CASE OP £g£ 

man of lowly birth and humble station ; with little wealth 
but from the labour of his hands, with no rank but the 
integrity of his character, with no recreation but in the 
circle of his home, and with no ambition, but, when his 
days are full, to leave that little circle the inheritance of 
an honest name, and the treasure of a good man's me- 
mory. Far inferior, indeed, is he in this respect to his 
more fortunate antagonist. He, on the contrary, is am- 
ply either blessed or cursed with those qualifications 
which enable a man to adorn or disgrace the society in 
which he lives. He is, I understand, the representative 
of an honourable name, the relative of a distinguished 
family, the supposed heir to their virtues, the indispu- 
table inheritor to their riches. He has been for many 
years a resident of your county, and has had the advan- 
tage of collecting round him all those recollections, which, 
springing from the scenes of school-boy association, or 
from the more matured enjoyments of the man, crowd 
as it were unconciously to the heart, and cling with a 
venial partiality to the companion and the friend. So 
impressed, in truth, has he been with these advantages, 
that, surpassing the usual expenses of a trial, he has se* 
lected a tribunal where he vainly hopes such considera- 
tions will have weight, and where he well knows my 
client's humble rank can have no claim but that to which 
his miseries may entitle him. I am sure, however, he 
has wretchedly miscalculated. I know none of you per- 
sonally ; but I have no doubt I am addressing men who 
will not prostrate their consciences before privilege or 

X 



162 



€OXNAGHTON V. DILLON. 



power ; who will remember that there is a nobility above 
birth, and a wealth beyond riches ; who will feel that, 
as m tli? eye of that God to whose aid they have ap- 
pealed, there is not the minutest difference between the 
rag and the robe, so la the contemplation of that law 
which constitutes our boast, guilt can have no protection, 
or innocence no tyrant ; men who will have pride in 
proving, that the noblest adage of our noble constitution 
is not an allusive shadow ; and that the peasant's cot- 
tage roofed with straw and tenanted by poverty, stands 
as inviolated from all invasion as in tke mansion of the 
monarch. 

My client's name, Gentlemen, is Oonnaghton, and 
when I have given you his name you have almost all his 
history. To cultivate the path of honest industry com- 
prises, in one line, " the short and simple annals of the 
poor." This has been his humble, but at the same time 
most honourable occupation. It matters little with what 
artificial nothings chance may distinguish the name, or 
decorate the person: the child of lowly life, with virtue 
for its handmaid, holds as proud a title as the highest — 
as rich an inheritance as the wealthiest. Well has the 
poet of our country said — that 

ff Princes or Lords may flourish or may fade, 
A breath can make them, as a breath has made ; 
But a barve peasantry, their country's pride, 
When once destroy'd can never be supplied." 

For all the virtues which adorn that peasantry, which 
can render humble life respected, or give the highest 



SPEECH IX THE CASE OF 



168 



stations their most permanent distinctions, my client 
stands conspicuous. A hundred years of sad vicissitude, 
and, in this land, often of strong temptation, have rolled 
away since the little farm on which he lives received his 
family : and during all that time not one accusation has* 
disgraced, not one crime has sullied it. The same spot 
has seen his graudsire and his parent pass away from 
this world : the village-memory records their worth, and 
their rustic tear hallows their resting-place. After all, 
when life's mockeries shall vanish from before us, and 
the heart that now beats in the proudest bosom here, 
shall moulder unconscious beneath its kindred clay, art 
cannot erect a nobler monument, or genius compose a 
purer panegyric. Such, gentlemen, was almost the only 
inheritance with which my client entered the world. He 
did not disgrace it ; his youth, his manhood, his age up 
to this moment, have passed without a blemish : and he 
now stands confessedly the head of the little village 
in which he lives. About five-and-twenty years ago he 
married the sister of a highly respectable Roman Catho- 
lic clergyman, by whom he had a family of seven chil- 
dren, whom they educated in the principles of morality 
and religion, and who, until the defendant's interference, 
were the pride of their humble home, and the charm or 
the consolation of its vicissitudes. In their virtuous 
children the rejoicing parents felt their youth renewed, 
their age made happy ; the days of labour became holi- 
days in their smile : and if the hand of affliction pressed 
on them, they looked upon their little ones, and their 



164 



OOXNAGHTON V. DILLOK. 



mourning ended. I cannot paint the glorious host of 
feelings ; the joy, the love, the hope, the pride, the blend- 
ed paradise of rich emotions with which the God of na- 
ture fills the father's heart when he beholds his child in 
all its filial loveliness, when the vision of his infancy rises 
as it were reanimate hefore him, and a divine vanity ex- 
aggerates every trifle into some mysterious omen, which 
shall smooth his aged wrinkles, and make his grave a 
monument of honour ! I cannot describe them ,• but, if 
there be a parent on the jury, he will comprehend me. It 
is stated to me, that of all his children there were none 
more likely to excite such feelings in the plaintiff than 
the unfortunate subject of the present action : she was 
his favourite daughter, and she did not shame his prefer- 
ence. You shall find most satisfactorily, that she 
was without stain or imputation ; an aid and a blessing 
to her parents, and an example to her younger sisters, 
who looked up to her for instruction. She took a plea- 
sure in assisting in the industry of their home ; and it 
was a neighbouring market, where she went to dispose 
of the little produce of that industry, that she unhappily 
attracted the notice of the defendant. Indeed, such a 
situation was not without its interest, — a young female, 
in the bloom of her attractions, exerting her faculties in 
a parent's service, is an object lovely in the eye of God, 
and, one would suppose, estimable in the eye of mankind. 
Far different, however; were the sensations which she 
excited in the defendant. He saw her arrayed, as he 
confesses, in charms that enchanted him 5 but her youth, 



SPEECH IN THE CASE OF 



165 



her beauty, the smile of her innocence, and the piety of 
her toil, but inflamed a brutal and licentious lust, that 
should have blushed itself away in such a presence. 
What cared he for the consequences of his gratification ? 
—There was 

"No honour, no relenting ruth, 



To paint the parents fondling o'er their child, 

Then show the ruin'd maid, and her distraction wild !" 

What thought he of the home he was to desolate ? 
What thought he of the happiness he was to plunder? 
His sensual rapine paused not to contemplate the speak- 
ing picture of the cottage-ruin, the blighted hope, the 
broken heart, the parent's agony, and, last and most 
withering in the woful group, the wretched victim her- 
self starving on the sin of a promiscuous prostitution, 
and at length perhaps, with her own hand, anticipating 
the more tedious murder of its diseases ! He need not, 
if I am instructed rightly, have tortured his fancy for the 
miserable consequences of hope bereft, and expectation 
plundered. Through no very distant vista, he might 
have seen the form of deserted loveliness weeping over 
the worthlessness of his worldly expiation, and warning 
him, that as there were cruelties no repentance could 
atone, so there were sufferings neither wealth, nor time, 
nor absence, could alleviate.* If his memory should 

* Mr. Phillips here alluded to a verdict of 5000/. obtained at the 
late Galway Assizes against the defendant, at the suit of Miss Wilson, 
a very beautiful and interesting young lady, for a breach of promise of 
marriage. Mr. Whitestoue, who now pleaded for Mr. Dillon, was 
Miss Wilson's advaeate ag&mst him «n tfete occasion alluded t& s 



466 



CONNAGHTON V. DILLON. 



fail him, if he should deny the picture, no man can tell 
him half so efficiently as the venerable advocate he has 
so judiciously selected, that a case might arise, where, 
though the energy of native virtue should defy the spo- 
liation of the person, still crushed affection might leave 
an infliction on the mind, perhaps less deadly, but cer- 
tainly not less indelible. I turn from this subject with 
an indignation which tortures me into brevity ; I turn 
to the agents by which this contamination was effected. 
I almost blush to name them, yet they were worthy 
of their vocation. They were no other than a menial 
servant of Mr. Dillon ; and a base, abondoned, profli- 
gate ruffian, a brother-in-law of the devoted victim her- 
self, whose beastial appetites he bribed into subserviency ! 
It does seem as if by such a selection he was determined 
to degrade the dignity of the master, while he violated 
the finer impulses of the man, by not merely associating 
with his own servant, but by diverting the purest streams 
of social affinity into the vitiated sewer of his enjoyment. 
Seduced by such instruments into a low public-house at 
Athlone, this unhappy girl heard, without suspicion, 
their mercinary panegyric of the defendant, when, to her 
amazement, but no doubt, according to their previous 
arrangement, he entered and joined their company. I 
do, confess to you, Gentlemen, when I first perused this 
passage in my brief, I flung it from me with a contemp- 
tuous incredulity. What ! I exclaimed, as no doubt you 
are all ready to exclaim, can this be possible ? Is it thus 
1 am to find the educated youth of Ireland occupied ? Is 



SPEECH IN THE CASE OF 



167 



this the employment of the miserable aristocracy that yet 
lingers in this devoted country ? Am I to find them, not 
in the pursuit of useful science, not in the encouragement 
of arts or agriculture, not in the relief of an impoverished 
tenantry, not in the proud march of an unsuccessful but 
not less sacred patriotism, not in the bright page of war- 
like immortality, dashing its iron crown from guilty 
greatness, or feeding freedom's laurel with the blood of 
the despot ! — but am I to find them, amid drunken pan- 
ders and corrupted slaves, debauching the innocence of 
village-life, and even amid the stews of the tavern, col- 
lecting or creating the materials of the brothel ! Gentle- 
men, I am still unwilling to believe it, and, with all the 
sincerity of Mr. Dillon's advocate, I do entreat you to 
reject it altogether, if it be not substantiated by the un- 
impeachable corroboration of an oath. As I am instruct- 
ed, he did not, at this time, alarm his victim by any 
direct communication of his purpose ; he saw that " she 
was good as she was fair," and that a premature disclo- 
sure would but alarm her virtue into an impossibility of 
violation. His satellites, however, acted to admiration. 
They produced some trifle which he had left for her dis- 
posal ; they declared he had long felt for her a sincere 
attachment ; as a proof that it was pure, they urged the 
modesty with which, at a first interview, elevated above 
her as he was, he avoided its disclosure. When she 
pressed the madness of the expectation which could 
alone induce her to consent to his addresses, they as- 
sured her that though in the first instance such an event 




468 



CONNAGHTON V. DILLON. 



was impossible, still in time it was far from being im- 
probable ; tbat many men from such motives forgot al- 
together the difference of station, that Mr. Dillon's own 
family had already proved every obstacle might yield 
to an all-powerful passion, and induce him to make her 
his wife, who had reposed an affectionate credulity on 
his honour ! Such were the subtle artifices to which he 
stooped. Do not imagine, however, that she yielded 
immediately and implicitly to their persuasions ; 1 should 
scarcely wonder if she did. Every day shews us the 
rich, the powerful, and the educated, bowing before the 
spell of ambition, or avarice, or passion, to the sacrifice 
of their honour, their country, and their souls ; what 
wonder, then, if a poor, ignorant, peasant girl had at 
once sunk before the united potency of such temptations ! 
But she did not. Many and many a time the truths which 
had been inculcated by her adoring parents rose up in 
arms ; and it was not until various interviews, and re- 
peated artifices, and untiring efforts, that she yielded 
her faith, her fame, and her fortunes, to the disposal of 
her seducer. Alas, alas ! how little did she suppose that 
a moment was to come when, every hope denounced, and 
every expectation dashed, he was to fling her for a very 
subsistence on the charity or the crimes of the world she 
had renounced for him ! How little did she reflect that 
in her humble station, unsoiled and sinless, she might 
look down upon the elevation to which vice would raise 
her ! Yes, even were it a throne, I say she might look 
down on it. There is not on this earth a lovelier vision $ 



SPEECH IN THE CASE OF 



169 



there is not for the skies a more angelic candidate than 
a young, modest maiden, robed in chastity; no matter 
what its habitation, whether it be the palace or the hut : — 

* So dear to Heaven is saintly Chastity, 
That when a soul is found sincerely so, 
A thousand liveried angels lackey her, 
Driving far off each thing of sin and guilt, 
And in clear dream and solemn vision 
Tell her of thing3 that no gross ear can hear, 
Till oft converse with heavenly habitants 
Begins to cast a beam on the outward shape. 
The unpolluted temple of the mind, 
And turns it by degrees to the soul's essence, 
Till all be made immortal ! 

Such is the supreme power of chastity, as described 
by one of our divinest bards, and the pleasure whicfi I 
feel in the recitation of such a passage is not a litle en- 
hanced, by the pride that few countries more fully afford 
its exemplification than our own. Let foreign envy de- 
cry us as it will, Chastity is the instinct of the 
Irish Female : the pride of her talents, the power of 
her beauty, the splendour of her accomplishments, are 
but so many handmaids of this vestal virtue ; it adorns 
her in the court, it ennobles her in the cottage ; whether 
«he basks in prosperity or pines in sorrow, it clings 
about her like the diamond of the mourning on the moun- 
tain floweret, trembling even in the ray that once exhi- 
bits and inhales it ! Rare in our land is the absence of 
this virtue. Thanks to the modesty that venerates ; 



IJQ 60NNAGHT0N V. DILLON. 

thanks to the manliness that brands and avenges its viola- 
tion. You have seen that it was by no common tempta- 
tions even this humble villager yielded to seduction. 

I now come, Gentlemen, to another fact in the pro- 
gress of this transaction, betraying in my mind, as base 
a premeditation, and as low -and as deliberate a decep- 
tion as I ever heard of. While this wretched creature 
was in a kind of counterpoise between her fear and her 
affection, struggling as well as she could between pas- 
sion inflamed and virtue unextinguished, Mr. Dillon, ar- 
dently avowing that such an event as separation was 
impossible, ardently avowing an eternal attachment, in- 
sisted upon perfecting an article which should place her 
above the reach of contingencies. Gentlemen, you shall 
see this document voluntarily executed by an educated 
and estated gentlemen of your country. I know not how 
you will feel, but for my part I protest I am in a sus- 
pense of admiration between the virtue of the proposal 
and the magnificent prodigality of the provision. Listen 
to the article: it is all in his own hand writing : — * l I 
promise," says i:e, "to give Mary Coimaghton the sura 
of ten pounds sterling per annum, when I part with her ; 
but if she, the said Mary, should at any time hereafter 
conduct herself improperly or (mark this, Gentlemen) 
has done so before the drawing of this article, I am not 
bound to pay the sum of ten pounds, and this article be- 
comes null and void as \i the same was never executed. 
John Dillon." There, Gentlemen, there is the notable 



SPEECH IN THE CASE OF 



171 



and dignified document for you I take it into your Jury 
box, for I know not how to comment on it. Oh, yes, I 
have heard of ambition urging men to crime — I have 
heard of love inflaming even to madness — I have read 
of passion rushing over law and religion to enjoyment; 
but never, until this, did I see a frozen avarice chilling 
the hot pulse of sensuality ; and desire pause, before its 
brutish draught, that it might add deceit to desolation! 
I need not tell you that having provided in the very ex- 
ecution of this article for its predetermined infringement ; 
that knowing, as he must, any stipulation for the purchase 
of vice to be invalid by our law ; that having in the body 
of this article inserted a provision against that previous 
pollution which his prudent caprice might invent here- 
after, but which his own conscience, her universal cha- 
racter, and even his own desire for her possession, all 
assured him did not exist at the time, I need not tell you 
that he now urges the invalidity of that instrument ; that 
he now presses that previous pollution ; that he refuses 
from his splendid income the pittance of ten pounds to 
the wretch he has ruined, and spurns her from him to 
pine beneath the reproaches of a parent's mercy, or lin- 
ger out a living death in tl;echarnel houses of prostitu- 
tion ! You see, Gentlemen, to what designs like these 
may lead a man. I have no doubt, if Mr. Dillon had 
given his heart fair play, had let his own nature gain a 
moment's ascendency, he would not have acted so ; but 
there is something in guilt which infatuates its votaries 



472 



CONNAGHTON V. DILLON 



forward ; it may begin with a promise broken, it will 
end with the home depopulated. But there is something 
in a seducer of peculiar turpitude. I know of no cha- 
racter so vile, so detestable. He is the vilest of robbers, 
for he plunders happiness ; the worst of murderers, for 
he murders innocence ; his appetites are of the brute, 
his arts of the demon ; the heart of the child and the 
course of the parent are the foundations of the altar 
which he rears to a lust, whose fires are the fires of hell, 
and whose incense is the agony of virtue ! I hope Mr. 
Dillon's advocate may prove that he does not deserve 
to rank in such a class as this ; but if lie does I hope 
the infatuation inseparably connected with such pro- 
ceedings may tempt him to deceive you through the 
same plea by which he has defrauded his miserable dupe. 
I dare him to attempt the defamation of a character, 
which, before his cruelties, never was even suspected. 
Happily, Gentlemen, happily for herself, this wretched 
creature, thus cast upon the world, appealed to the pa- 
rental refuge she had forfeited. I need not describe^ to 
you the parent's anguish at the heart-rending discovery. 
God help the poor man when misfortune comes upon 
him ! How few are his resources ! how distant his con- 
solation ! You must not forget, Gentlemen, that it is ' 
not the unfortunate victim herself who appeals to you for 
compensation. Her crimes, poor wretch, have outlaw- 
ed her from retribution, and, however the temptations 
by which her erring nature was seduced, may procure an 



SPEECH IN THE CASE OF 



173 



aucfience from the ear of mercy, the stern morality of 
earthly law refuses their interference. No, no ; it is the 
wretched parent who comes this day before you — his 
aged locks withered by misfortune, and his heart broken 
by crimes of which he was unconscious. He resorts to 
this tribunal, in the language of the law, claiming the 
value of his daughter's servitude ; but let it not be 
thought that it is for her mere manual labours he solicits 
compensation. No, you are to compensate him for all 
he has suffered, for all he has to suffer, for feelings out- 
raged, for gratifications plundered, for honest pride put 
to the blush, for the exiled endearments of his once 
happy home, for all those innumerable and instinctive 
ecstacies with which a virtuous daughter fills her father's 
heart, for which language is too poor to have a name, 
but of which nature is abundantly and richly eloquent ! 
Do not suppose I am endeavouring to influence you by 
the power of declamation. I am laying down to you the 
British law, as liberally expounded and solemnly ad- 
judged. I speak the language of the English Lord 
Eldon, a judge of great experience and greater learning 
— (Mr. Phillips here cited several cases as decided by 
Lord Eldon.) — Such, Gentlemen, is the language of Lord 
Eldon. L speak also on the authority of our own Lord 
Avonmore, a judge who illuminated the bench by his 
genius, endeared it by his suavity, and dignified it by 
his bold uncompromising probity ; one of those rare 
men, who hid the thorns of law beneath the brightest 



174* 



CONNAGHTOX V. DILLON. 



flowers of literature, and, as it were, with the wand of an 
enchanter, changed a wilderness into a garden ! I 
speak upon that high authority — but I speak on other 
authority paramount to all ! — on the authority of nature 
rising up within the heart of man, and calling for ven- 
geance upon such an outrage. God forbid, that in a 
case of this kind we were to grope our way through the 
ruins of antiquity, and blunder over statutes, and burrow 
through black letter in search of an interpretation 
which Providence has engraved in living letters on eve- 
ry human heart. Yes ; if there be one amongst you 
blessed with a daughter, the smile of whose infancy still 
cheers your memory, and the promise of whose youth 
illuminates your hope, who has endeared the toils of 
your manhood, whom you look up to as the solace of 
your declining years, whose embrace alleviated the pang 
of separation, whose growing welcome hailed your oft 
anticipated return — oh, if there be one amongst you, to 
whom those recollections are dear, to whom those hones 
are precious — let him only fancy that daughter torn from 
his caresses by a seducer's arts, and cast upon the 
world, robbed of her innocence, — and then let him ask 
his heart, " what money could reprise him /*! 

The defendant, Gentlemen, cannot complain that I 
put it thus to you. If, in place of seducing, he had as- 
saulted this poor girl — if he had attempted by force 
what he has achieved by fraud, his life would have been 
the forfeit; and yet how trilling in comparison would 



SPEECH IN THE CASE OF 



175 



have been the parent's agony ! He has no right, then, 
to complain, if you should estimate this outrage at the 
price of his very existence ! I am told, indeed, this gen- 
tleman entertains an opinion, prevalent enough in the 
age of a feudalism, as arrogant as it was barbarous, 
that the poor are only a species of property, to be treat- 
ed according to interest or caprice ; and that wealth is 
at once a patent for crime, and an exemption from its 
consequences. Happily for this land, the day of such 
opinions has passed over it — the eye of a purer feeling 
and more profound philosophy now beholds riches but 
as one of the aids to virtue, and sees in oppressed poverty 
only an additional stimulus to increased protection. 
A generous heart cannot help feeling, that in cases of 
this kind the poverty of the injured is a dreadful aggra- 
vation. If the rich suffer, they have much to console 
them ; but when a poor man loses the darling of his 
heart — the sole pleasure with which nature blessed him 
— how abject, how cureless is the despair of his destitu- 
tion ! Believe me, Gentlemen, you have not only a 
solemn duty to perform, but you have an awful respon- 
sibility imposed upon you. You are this day, in some 
degree, trustees for the morality of the people — perhaps 
ef the whole nation ; for, depend upon it, if the sluices of 
immorality are once opened among the lower orders, 
the frightful tide, drifting upon its surface all that is 
dignified or dear, will soon rise even to the habitations 
of the highest. I feel, Gentlemen, I have discharged 



iyg CONNAGHTON V. DILLON. 

my duty — I am sure you will do your y s. I repose my 
client with confidence in your hands ; and most fervent- 
ly do I hope, that when evening shall find you at your 
happy fire-side, surrounded by the sacred circle of your 
children, you may not feel the heavy curse gnawing at 
your heart, of having let loose, unpunished, the prowler 
that may devour them. 



SPEECH 



OE 

MR. PHILLIPS 

IN 

THE CASE OF CREIGHTON v. TOWNSEND, 

DELIVERED IN" 

TBE COURT OF COMMON PLEAS, DUBLIN 



My Lord and Gentlemen, 

I AM with ray learned brethren counsel for the 
plaintiff. My friend Mr. Curran has told you the na- 
ture of the action. It has fallen to my lot to state more 
at large to you the aggression by which it has been occa- 
sioned. Believe me it is with no paltry affectation of 
under- valuing my very humble powers that I wish he 
had selected some more experienced, or at least less 
credulous advocate. I feel I cannot do my duty ; I am 
not fit to address you, I have incapacitated myself; I 

7j 



178 



SPEECH IN THE CASE OF 



know not whether any of (he calumnies which have so 
industriously anticipated this trial, have reached your 
earsj but I do confess tiiey did so wound and poison 
mine, that to satisfy my doubts I visited the house of 
misery and mourning, and the scene which set scepti- 
cism at rest, has set description at defiance. Had I 
not yielded to those interested misrepresentations, I 
might from my brief have sketched the fact, and from 
my fancy drawn the consequences ; but as it is, reality 
rushes before my frightened memory, and silences the 
tongue and mocks the imagination. Believe me, Gen- 
tlemen, you are impanneled there upon no ordinary oc- 
casion ,• nominally, indeed, you are to repair a private 
wrong, and it is a wrong as deadly as human wickedness 
can inflict — as human weakness can endure ; a wrong 
which annihilates the hope of the parent and the happi- 
ness of the child ; which in one moment blights the 
fondest anticipations of the heart, and darkens the social 
hearth, and worse than depopulates the habitations of 
the happy ! But, Gentlemen, high as it is, this is far 
from your exclusive duty. You are to do much more. 
You are to say whether an example of such transcendant 
turpitude is to stalk forth for public imitation — whether 
national morals are to have the law for their protection, 
or imported crime is to feed upon impunity — whether 
chastity and religion are still to be permitted to linger in 
this province, or it is to become one loathsome den of 
legalized prostitution — whether the sacred volume of the 
Gospel, and the venerable statutes of the law are still to 



CREIGHTON V. TOWNSENB, ^yg 

be respected, or converted into a pedestal on winch the 
mob and the military are$to erect the idol of a drunken 
adoration. Gentlemen, these are the questions you are 
to try ; hear the facts on which your decision must be 
founded. 

M is now about five-and-twenty years since the plain- 
tiff, Mr. Creighton, commenced business as a slate mer- 
chant in the city of Dublin. His vocation was humble, 
it is true, but it was nevertheless honest ; and though, 
unlike his opponent, the heights of ambition lay not be- 
fore him, the path of respectability did— he approved 
himself a good man and a respectable citizen. Arrived 
at the age of manhood, he sought not the gratification of 
its natural desires by adultery or seduction. For him 
the home of honesty was sacred ; for him the poor man's 
child was unassailed ; no domestic desolation mourned 
his enjoyment; no anniversary of wo commemorated 
his achivements ; from his own sphere of life naturally 
and honourably he selected a companion, whose beauty 
blessed his bed, and whose virtues consecrated his dwell- 
ing. Eleven lovely children blessed their union, the 
darlings of- their heart, the delight of their evenings, and 
as they blindly anticipated, the prop and solace of their 
approaching age. Oh ! sacred wedded love ! how 
dear ! how delightful ! how divine are thy enjoyments ! 
Contentment crowns thy board, affection glads thy fire- 
side ; passion, chaste but ardent, modest but intense, 
sighs o'er thy couch, the atmosphere of paradise ! 
Surely, surely, if this consecrated rite can acquire 



*gQ SPEECH IN THE CASE OF 

from circumstances a factitious interest, 'tis when we see 

m 
it cheering the poor man's home, or shedding over the 

dwelling of misfortune the light of its warm and lovely 
consolation. Unhappily, Gentlemen, it has that interest 
here. That capricious power which often dignifies the 
worthless hypocrite, as often wounds the industrious and 
the honest. The late ruinous contest, having in its 
career confounded all the proportions of society, and 
with its last gasp sighed famine and misfortune on the 
world, has cast my industrious client, with too many of 
Lis companions, from competence to penury. Alas, alas, 
to him it left worse of its satellites behind it ; it left the 
invader even of his misery — the seducer of his sacred 
and unspotted innocence. Mysterious Providence ! was 
it not enough that sorrow robed the happy home in 
mourning — was it not enough that disappointment prey- 
ed upon its loveliest prospects — was it not enough that 
its little inmates cried in vain for bread, and heard no 
answer but the poor father's sigh, and drank no suste- 
nance but the wretched mother's tears ? Was this a 
time for passion, lawless, conscienceless, licentious 
passion, with its eye of lust, its heart of stone, its hand 
of rapine, to rush into the mournful sanctuary of misfor- 
tune, casting crime into the cap of wo, and rob the 
parents of their last wealth, their child, and rob the 
child of her only charm, her innocence * ! That this 
has been done I am instructed we shall prove: what 
requital it deserves, Gentlemen, you must prove to man- 
kind. 



CREIGHTON V. TOWNSEND. 



181 



The defendant's name I understand is Townsend. 
He is of an age when every generous blossom of the 
spring should breathe an infant freshness round his 
heart ; of a family which should inspire not only high 
but hereditary principles of honour ; of a profession 
whose very essence is a stainless chivalry, and whose 
bought and bounden duty is the protection of the citizen. 
Such are the advantages with which he appears before 
you — fearful advantages, because they repel all possible 
suspicion ; but you will agree with me, most damning ad- 
versaries, if it shall appear that the generous ardour of 
his youth was chilled — that the noble inspiration of his 
birth was spurned — that the lofty impulse of his profes- 
sion was despised — and that all that could grace, or 
annimate, or ennoble, was used to hid own discredit and 
his fellow-creature's misery. 

It was upon the first of June last, that on the banks of 
the canal, near Portobello, Lieutenant Townsend first 
met the daughter of Mr. Creighton, a pretty interesting 
girl, scarcely sixteen years of age. She was accompa- 
nied by her little sister, only four years old, with whom 
she was permitted to take a daily walk in that retired 
spot, the vicinity of her residence. The defendant was 
attracted by her appearance — he left his party, and 
attempted to converse with her ; she repelled his advan- 
ces — he immediately seized her infant sister by the 
hand, whom he held as a kind of hostage for an introduc- 
tion to his victim. A prepossessing appearance, a mo- 
desty of deportment apparently quite incompatible with 



182 



SPEECH IN THE CASE OF 



any evil design, gradually silenced her alarm, and slie 
answered the common-place questions with which, on 
her way home, he addressed her. Gentlemen, I admit 
it was an innocent imprudence ; the rigid rules of ma- 
tured morality should have repelled such communica- 
tion; yet, perhaps, judging even hy that strict standard,, 
you will rather condemn the familiarity of the intrusion 
in a designing adult than the facility of access in a crea- 
ture of her age and her innocence. They thus separat- 
ed, as she naturally supposed, to meet no more. Not 
such, however, was the determination of her destroyer. 
From that hour until her ruin, he scarcely ever lost 
sight of her — he followed her as a shadow — he way -laid 
her in her walks — he interrupted her in her avocations — - 
he haunted the street of her residence ; if she refused tc 
meet him, he paraded hcfore her window at the hazard 
of exposing her first comparatively innocent imprudence 
to her unconscious parents. How happy would it have 
been had she conquered the timidity so natural to her 
age, and appealed at once to their pardon and their 
protection ! Gentlemen, this daily persecution continued 
for three months — for three successive months, by every 
art, by every persuasion, hy every appeal to her vanity 
and her passions, did he toil for the destruction of this 
unfortunate young creature. I leave you to guess how 
many during that interval might have yielded to the 
blandishments of manner, the fascinations of youth, the 
rarely resisted temptations of opportunity. For three 
long months she did resist them. She would have resist- 



CREIGHTON V. TOWNSEND. £gg 

ed them for ever but for an expedient which is without a 
model — but for an exploit which I trust in God will be 
without an imitation. Oh, yes, he might have returned 
to his country, and did he but reflect, he would rather 
have rejoiced at the virtuous triumph of his victim, than 
mourned his own soul-redeeming defeat ; he might have 
returned to his country, and told the cold-blooded libel- 
lers of this land that their speculations upon Irish chas- 
tity were prejudiced and proofless ; that in the wreck of 
nil else we had retained our honour; that though the na- 
tional luminary had descended for a season, the streaks 
of its loveliness still lingered on your horizon ; that the 
nurse of that genius which abroad had redeemed the 
name, and dignified the nature of man, was to be found 
at home in the spirit without a stain, and the purity 
without a suspicion. He might have told them truly 
that this did not result, as they would intimate, from 
the absence of passion or the want of civilization ; that 
it was the combined consequence of education, of exam- 
ple, and of impulse ! and that, though in all the revelry* 
of enjoyment, the fair floweret of the Irish soil exhaled 
its fragrance and expanded its charms in the chaste and 
blessed beams of a virtuous affection, still it shrunk with 
an instinctive sensitiveness from the gross pollution of an 
unconsecrated contract. 

Gentlemen, the common artifices of the seducer failed; 
the syren tones with which sensuality awakens appetite 
and lulls purity had wasted themselves in air, and the 
intended victim, deaf to their fascination, moved along 



184 



SPEECH IX THE CASE OF 



safe and untransformed. He soon saw, that young as 
she was, the vulgar expedients of vice were ineffectual ; 
that the attractions of a glittering exterior failed ; and 
that before she could be tempted to her sensual damna- 
tion, his tongue must learn, if not the words of wisdom, 
at least the speciousness of affected purity. He pretend- 
ed an affection as virtuous as it was violent ; he called 
God to witness the sincerity of his declarations ; by all 
the vows which should for ever rivet the honourable, 
and could not fail to convince even the incredulous, he 
promised her marriage ; over and over again he invoked 
the eternal denunciation if he was perfidious. To her 
acknowledged want of fortune, his constant reply was, 
that he had an independence ; that all he wanted was 
beauty and virtue ; that he saw she had the one, that had 
proved she had the other. When she pleaded the obvi- 
ous disparity of her birth, he answered, that he was 
himself only the son of an English farmer,- that happi- 
ness was not the monopoly of rank or riches ; that his 
parents would receive her as the child of their adoption ; 
that he would cherish her as the charm of his existence. 
Specious as it was, even this did not succeed ; she deter- 
mined to await its avowal to those who had given her 
life, and who hoped to have made it immaculate by the 
education they had bestowed and the example they had 
afforded. Some days after this he met her in her walks, 
for she could not pass her paternal threshold without be- 
ing intercepted. He asked where she was going, — she 
said, a friend knowing her fondness for books had pro- 



GREIGHTON- V. TOWNSEND. ^g^ 

snised her the loan of some, and she was going to receive 
them. He told her he had abundance, that they were 
just at his home, that he hoped after what had passed 
she would feel no impropriety in accepting them. She 
was persuaded to accompany him. Arrived, however, 
at the door of his lodgings, she positively refused to go 
any farther^ all his former artifices were redoubled ; he 
called God to witness he considered her as his wife, and 
her character as dear to him as that of one of his sisters ; 
he affected mortification at any suspicion of his purity ; 
he told her if she refused her confidence to his honoura- 
ble affection, the little infant who accompanied her was 
an inviolable guarantee for her protection. 

Gentlemen, this wretched child did suffer her credulity 
to repose on his professions. Her theory taught her to 
respect the honour of a soldier ; her love repelled the im- 
putation that debased its object ; and her youthful inno- 
cence rendered her as incredulous as she was uncon- 
scious of criminality. At first his behaviour corresponded 
with his professions ; he welcomed her to the home of 
which he hoped she would soon become the inseparable 
companion; he painted the future joys of their domestic 
felicity, and dwelt with peculiar complacency on some 
heraldic ornament which hung over his chimney-piece, 
and which, he said, was the armorial ensign of his family! 
Oh ! my Lord, how well would it have been had he but 
retraced the fountain of that document ; had he recalled 
to mind the virtues it rewarded, the pure train of ho- 
nours it associated, the line of spotless ancestry it distin- 

A a 



£gg SPEECH IN THE CASE OF 

guished, the high ambition its bequest inspired, the mo- 
ral imitation it imperatively commanded! But when 
guilt once kindles within the human heart, all that is 
noble in our nature becomes parched and arid; the blush 
of modesty fades before its glare, the sighs of virtue fan 
its lurid flame, and every divine essence of our being 
but swells and exasperates its infernal conflagration. 

Gentlemen, I will not disgust this audience ; I will 
not debase myself by any description of the scene that 
followed : I will not detail the arts, the excitements, the 
promises, the pledges with which deliberate lust inflamed 
the passions, and finally overpowered the struggles of 
innocence and of youth. It is too much to know that 
tears could not appease — that misery could not affect — 
that tiie presence and the prayers of an infant could not 
awe him ; and that the wretched victim, between the 
ardour of passion and the repose of love, sunk at length, 
inflamed, exhausted, and confiding, beneath the heart- 
less grasp of an unsympathizing sensuality. 

The appetite of the hour thus satiated, at a temporal, 
perhaps an eternal hazard, he dismissed the sisters to 
their unconscious parents, not, however, without extort- 
ing a promise, that on the ensuing night Miss Creighton 
would desert her home for ever for the arms of a fond, 
affectionate, and faithful husband. Faithful, alas ! but 
only to his appetites, he did seduce her from that 
"sacred home," to deeper guilt, to more deliberate cru- 
elty. 



CREjGHTON V. TOWNSEND. ^oy 

After a suspense comparatively happy, her parents 
became acquainted with her irrevocable ruin. The 
miserable mother, supported by the mere strength of 
desperation, rushed half phrenzied to the castle, where 
Mr. Townsend was on duty. c< Give me back my 
child !" was all she could articulate. The parental 
ruin struck the spoiler almost speechless. The dreadful 
words, "I have your child" withered her heart up with 
the horrid joy that death denied its mercy, that her 
daughter lived, but lived, alas, to infamy. She could 
neither speak nor hear ; she sunk down convulsed and 
powerless. As soon as she could recover to any thing 
of effort, naturally did she turn to the residence of Mr. 
Townsend ; his orders had anticipated her — the sentinel 
refused her entrance. She told her sad narration, she 
implored his pity; with the eloquence of grief she asked 
him, had he home, or zvife, or children. " Oh, Holy 
Nature ! thou didst not plead in vain I" even the rude 
soldier's heart relented. He admitted her by stealth, 
and she once more held within her arms the darling hope 
of many an anxious hour: duped, desolate, degraded it 
was true — but still — but still « c her child.' 9 Gentlemen, 
if the parental heart cannot suppose what followed, how 
little adequate am I to paint it. Home this wretched 
creature could not return ; a seducer's mandate and a 
father's anger equally forbade it. But she gave what- 
ever consolation she was capable ; she told the fatal tale 
of her undoing — the hopes, the promises, the studied 
specious arts that had seduced her; and with a desperate 



1 



SPEECH Itf THE CASE 01' 



credulity still watched the light that, glimmering in the 
distant vista of her love, mocked her with hope, and was 
to leave her to the tempest. To all the prophecies of 
maternal anguish, she would still reply, •* Oh, no — in 
the eye of Heaven he is my husband ; he took me from 
my home, my happiness, and you, but still he pledged 
to me a soldier's honour — but he assured me with a 
Christian's conscience ; for three long months I heard 
his vows of love; he is honourable and will not deceive; 
he is human and cannot desert me." Hear, Gentlemen, 
hear, I beseech you, how this innocent confidence was 
returned. When her indignant father had resorted to 
Lord Forbes, the commander of the forces, and to the 
noble and learned head of this Court, both of whom re- 
ceived him with a sympathy that did them honour, Mr. 
Townsend sent a brother officer to inform her she must 
quit his residence and take lodgings. In vain she 
remonstrated, in vain she reminded him of her former 
purity, and of the promises that betrayed it. She was 
literally turned out at night-fall to find whatever refuge 
the God of the shelterless might provide for her. De- 
serted and disowned, how naturally did she turn to the 
once happy home, whose inmates she had disgraced, and 
whose protection she had forfeited ! how naturally did 
she think the once familiar and once welcome avenues 
looked frowning as she passed ! how naturally did she 
linger like a reposeless spectre round the memorials of 
her living happiness ! Her heart failed her ; where a 
parent's smile had ever cheered her, she could not face 



CREIGHTOK V. TOWXSEND. ^gy 

the glance of shame, or sorrow, or disdain? She re- 
turned to seek her seducer's pity even till the morning. 
Good God ! how can I disclose it ! — the very guard had 
orders to refuse her access : even by the rabble soldiery 
she was cast into the street, amid the night's dark hor- 
rors, the victim of her own credulity, the outcast of ano- 
ther's crime, to seal her guilty woes with suicide, or lead 
a living death amid the tainted sepulchres of a promiscu* 
ous prostitution ! Far, far am I from sorry that it was 
so. Horrible beyond thought as is this aggravation, I 
only hear in it the voice of the Deity in thunder upon the 
crime. Yes, yes ; it is the present God arming the vi- 
cious agent against the vice, and terrifying from its con- 
ception by the turpitude to which it may lead. But 
what aggravation does seduction need! Vice is its 
essence, lust its end, hypocrisy its instrument, and inno- 
cence its victim. Must I detail its miseries ? Who de- 
populates the home of virtue, making the child an orphan 
and the parent childless ? Who wrests its crutch from 
the tottering helplessness of piteous age ? Who rings 
its happiness from the heart of youth ? Who shocks the 
vision of the public eye ? Who infects your very 
thoroughfares with disease, disgust, obscenity, and pro- 
faneness ? Who pollutes the harmless scenes where mo- 
desty resorts for mirth, and toil for recreation, with 
sights that stain the pure and shock the sensitive ? Are 
these the phrases of an interested advocacy ? is there one 
amongst you but has witnessed their verification ? Is 
there one amongst you so fortunate, or so secluded, as 



Iqq Speech in the case of 

not to have wept over the wreck of health, and youth, 
aud loveliness, and talent, the fatal trophies of the sedu- 
cer's triumph — some form, perhaps, where every grace 
was squandered, and every beauty paused to waste its 
bloom, and every beam of mind and tone of melody 
poured their profusion of the public wonder; all that a 
parent's prayer could ask, or a lover's adoration fancy ; 
in whom even pollution looked so lovely, that virtue 
would have made her more than human? Is there an 
epithet too vile for such a spoiler ? Is there a punish- 
ment too severe for such depravity ? I know not upon 
what complaisance this English seducer may calculate 
from a jury of this country: I know not, indeed, whether 
he may not think he does your wives and daughters 
some honour by their contamination. But I know well 
what reception he would experience from a jury of his 
own country. I know that in such general execration do 
they view this crime, they think no possible plea a pal- 
liation ! no, not the mature age of the seduced ; not her 
previously protracted absence from her parents; not a 
levity approaching almost to absolute guilt; not an indis- 
cretion in the mother, that bore every colour of conni- 
vance ; and in this opinion they have been supported by 
all the venerable authorities with whom age, integrity, 
and learning have adorned the judgment seat. 

Gentlemen, I come armed with these authorities. In 
the case of Tullidge against Wade; my Lord, it appear- 
ed the person seduced was thirty years of age, and long 
before absent from her home ; yet, on a motion to set 



CREIGHTON V. TOWNSEND, j g | 

aside the verdict for excessive damages, what was the 
language of Chief Justice Wilmot ? *' I regret," said 
he, il that they were not greater ; though the plaintiff's 
loss did not amount to twenty shillings, the jury were 
right in giving ample damages, because such actions 
should be encouraged for example's sake." Justice 
Clive wished they had given twice the sum, and in this 
opinion the whole bench concurred. There was a case 
where the girl was of mature age, and living apart from 
her parents ; here, the victim is almost a child, and was 
never for a moment separated from her home. Again, 
in the case of 4t Bennet against Alcott," on a similar 
motion, grounded on the apparently overwhelming fact, 
that the mother of the girl had actually sent the defen- 
dant into her daughter's bed-chamber, where the crimi- 
nality occurred, Justice Buller declared, " he thought 
the parent's indiscretion no excuse for the defendant's 
culpability ;" and the verdict of 200/. damages was con- 
firmed. There was a case of literal connivance: here, 
will they have the hardihood to hint even its suspicion ? 
You all must remember, Gentlemen, the case of our own 
countryman, Captain Gore, against whom, only the 
other day, an English jury gave a verdict of 1,500/. da- 
mages, though it was proved that the person alleged to 
have been seduced was herself the seducer, going even so 
far as to throw gravel up at the windows of the defend- 
ant ; yet Lord Ellenborough refused to disturb the ver^ 
diet. Thus you may see I rest not on my own proofless 
and unsupported dictum. I rely upon grave decisions 



ig^ SPEECH IX THE CASE Ot 



and venerable authorities — -not only on the indignant 
denunciation of the moment, but on the deliberate con* 
currence of the enlightened and the dispassionate. I 
see my learned opponent smile. I tell him I would not 
care if the books were an absolute blank upon the sub- 
ject. I would then make the human heart my authority ? 
I would appeal to the bosom of every man who hears me, 
whether such a crime should grow unpunished into a 
precedent : whether innocence should be made the sub- 
ject of a brutal speculation ; whether the sacred seal of 
filial obedience, upon which the Almighty Parent has 
affixed his eternal fiat, should be violated by a blasphem- 
ous and selfish libertinism ! 

Gentlemen, if the cases I have quoted, palliated as 
they were, have been humanely marked by ample dama- 
ges, what should you give here where there is nothing 
to excuse — where there is every thing to aggravate ! 
The seduction was deliberate, it was three months in 
progress, its victim was almost a child, it was committed 
under the most alluring promises, it was followed by a 
deed of the most dreadful cruelty ; but, above all, it was 
the act of a man commissioned by his own country, and 
paid by this, for the enforcement of the laws and the pre- 
servation of society. No man more respects than I do 
the well-earned reputation of the British army ; 

"It is a school 
Where every principle tending to honour 
Is taught — if followed," 



CREIGHTON V. TOWNSEND. ^gg 

But in the name of that distinguished army, I here so- 
lemnly appeal against an act, which would blight its 
greenest laurels, and lay its- trophies prostrate in the 
dust. Let them war, hut be it not on domestic happi- 
ness ; let them invade, but be their country's hearths in- 
violable ; let them achieve a triumph wherever their ban- 
ners fly, but be it not over morals, innocence, and virtue. 
I know not by what palliation the defendant means to 
mitigate this enormity ; — will he plead her youth ? it 
should have been her protection ; — will he plead her le- 
vity ? I deny the fact ; but even were it true, what is it 
to him ? what right has any man to speculate on the 
temperature of your wives and your daughters, that he 
may defile your bed, or desolate your habitation ? Will 
he plead poverty ? I never knew a seducer or an adul- 
terer that did not. He should have considered that be- 
fore. But is poverty an excuse for crime ? Our law 
says, he who has not a purse to pay for it, must suffer 
for it in his person. It is a most wise declaration ; and 
for my part, I never hear such a person plead poverty, 
that my first emotion is not a thanksgiving, that Provi- 
dence has denied, at least, the instrumentality of wealth 
to the accomplishment of his purposes. Gentlemen, I 
see you agree with me. I wave the topic ; and I again 
tell you, that if what I know will be his chief defence 
were true, it should avail him nothing. He had no right 
to speculate on this wretched creature's levity to ruin 
her, and still less to ruin her family. Remember, how- 
ever, Gentlemen, that even had this wretched child been 

Bb 



194 



SPEECH IN THE CASE OF 



indiscreet, it is not in her name we ask for reparation ; 
no, it is in the name of the parents iter seducer has heart- 
broken ; it is in the name of the poor helpless family he 
has desolated; it is in the name of that misery, whose 
sanctuary he has viloated ; it is in the name of law, vir- 
tue, and morality; it is in the name of that country 
whose fair fame foreign envy will make responsible for 
this crime ; it is in the name of nature's dearest, tendcr- 
est sympathies ; it is in the name of all that gives your 
toil an object, and your ease a charm, and your age a 
hope — I ask from you the value qj the poor man's child. 



SPEECH 



IX 



THE CASE OF BLAKE v. WTLKINS : 



DELIVERED IX 



THE COUJSTTY COURT-HOUSE, GALWAY. 



May it -please Tour Lordship, 

THE Plaintiff's Counsel tell me, Gentlemen, most un- 
expectedly that they have closed his case, and it becomes 
my duty to state to you that of the Defendant. The na- 
ture of this action you have already heard. It is one 
which, in my mind, ought to be very seldom brought, 
and very sparingly encouraged. It is founded on circum- 
stances of the most extreme delicacy, and it is intended 
to visit with penal consequences the non-observance of 
an engagement, which is of the most paramount impor- 
tance to society, and which of all others, perhaps, ought 
to be the most unbiassed, — an engagement which, if it 
be voluntary judicious, and disinterested, generally pro- 
duces the happiest effects ; but which, if it be either un- 
suitable or compulsory, engenders not only individual 
misery, but consequences universally pervious. There 



196 



SPEECH IN THE CASE OF 



are few contracts between human beings which should 
be more deliberate than that of marriage. I admit it 
should be very cautiously promised, but, even when 
promised, I am far from conceding that it should inva- 
riably be performed ; a thousand circumstances may form 
an impediment, change of fortune may render it impru- 
dent, change of affection may make it culpable. The 
very party to whom the law gives the privilege of com- 
plaint has perhaps the most reason to be grateful, — 
grateful that its happiness has not been surrendered to 
caprice ; grateful that Religion has not constrained an 
unwilling acquiescence, or made an unavoidable deser- 
tion doubly criminal, grateful that an offspring has not 
been sacrificed to the indelicate and ungenerous enforce- 
ment; grateful that an innocent secret disinclination did 
not too late evince itself in an irresistible and irreme- 
diable disgust. You will agree with me, however, that 
if there exists any excuse for such an action, it is on the 
side of the female, because every female object being 
more exclusively domestic, such a disappointment is 
more severe in its visitation ; because the very circum- 
stance concentrating their feelings renders them natu- 
rally more sensitive of a wound ; because their best 
treasure, their reputation, may have suffered from the 
intercourse ; because their chances of reparation are 
less, and their habitual seclusion makes them feel it more; 
because there is something in the desertion of their help- 
lessness w^ch almost immerges the illegality in the un- 
manliness of fi*e abandonment. However, if a man seeks 



BLAKE V. WILKINS. 



4 67 



to enforce this engagement, every one feels some indeli- 
cacy attached to the requisition. I do not inquire into 
the comparative justness of the reasoning', but does not 
every one feel that there appears some meanness in forc- 
ing a female into an alliance ? Is it not almost saying, 
u I will expose to public shame the credulity on which I 
practised, or you must pay to me the monies numbered, 
the profits of that heartless speculation; I have gam- 
bled with your affections, I have secured your bond, I 
will extort the penalty either from your purse or your 
reputation !" I put a case to you where the circum- 
stances are reciprocal, where age, fortune, situation, are 
the same, where there is no disparity of years to make 
the supposition ludicrous, where there is no disparity of 
fortune to render it suspicious. Let us see whether the 
present action can be so palliated, or whether it does not 
exhibit a picture of fraud and avarice, and meanness 
and hypocrisy, so laughable, that it is almost impossible 
to criticise it, and yet so debasing, that human pride al- 
most forbids its ridicule. 

It has been left to me to defend my unfortunate old 
client from the double battery of Love and of Law, which 
at the age of sixty-five has so unexpectedly opened on 
her. Oh, Gentlemen, how vain-glorious is the boast of 
beauty ! How misapprehended have been the charms of 
youth, if years and wrinkles can thus despoil their con- 
quests, and depopulate the navy of its prowess, and be- 
guile the bar of its eloquence ! How mistaken were all 
the amatory poets from Anacreon downwards, who pre- 



a 



^gg SPEECH m THE CASE OF 

ferred the bloom of the rose and the thrill of the night- 
ingale, to the saffron hide and dulcet treble of sixty-five ! 
Even our own sweet bard has had the folly to declare, 
that 

if He once had heard tell of an amorous youth 
Who was caught in his grandmother's bed ; 
But owns he had ne'er such a liquorish tooth, 
As to wish to be there in his stead." 

Royal wisdom has said, that we live in a " New Era. 57 
The reign of old women has commenced, and if Johanna 
Southcotc converts England to her creed, why should 
not Ireland, less pious perhaps, but at least equally pas- 
sionate, kneel before the shrine of the irresistible Widow 
Wilklns. It appears, Gentlemen, to have been her 
happy fate to have subdued particularly the death-deal- 
ing professions. Indeed, in the love-episodes of the 
heathen mythology, Mars and Venus were considered 
as inseparable. I know not whether any of you have 
ever seen a very beautiful print representing the fatal 
glory of Quebec, and the last moments of its immortal 
conqueror — if so, y on must have observed the figure of 
the Staff physician, in whose arms the hero is expiring 
— that identical personage, my Lord, was the happy 
swain, who, forty or fifty years ago, received the reward 
of his valour and his skill in the virgin hand of my vene- 
rable client I The Doctor lived something more than a 
century, during a great part of which Mrs. Wilkins was 
bis companion — alas, Gentlemen, long as he lived, he 
lived not long enough to behold her beauty— i 



BLAKE V. WILKIXS. 

*' That beauty, like the Aloe flower, 
But blossom'd and bloom'd at fourscore." 



199 



He was, however, so far fascinated as to bequeath to her 
the legacies of his patients, when he found he was pre- 
doomed to follow them. To this circumstance, very far 
be it from me to hint, that Mrs. W. is indebted for any of 
her attractions. Rich, however, she undoubtedly was, 
and rich she would still as undoubtedly have continued, 
had it not "been for her intercourse with the family of 
the Plaintiff. I do not impute it as a crime to them that 
they happened to be necessitous, but I do impute it as 
both criminal and ungrateful, that after having lived on 
the generosity of their friend, after having literally ex- 
hausted her most prodigal liberality, they should drag 
her infirmities before the public gaze, vainly supposing 
that they could hide their own contemptible avarice in 
the more prominent exposure of her melancholy dotage. 
The father of the Plaintiff, it cannot be unknown to you, 
was for many years in the most indigent situation. 
Perhaps it is not a matter of concealment either, that he 
found in Mrs. Wiikins a generous benefactress. She 
assisted and supported him, until at last his increasing 
necessities reduced him to take refuge in an act of insol- 
vency. During their intimacy, frequent allusion was 
made to a son whom Mrs. Wiikins had never seen since 
he was a child, and who had risen to a lieutenancy in the 
navy, under the patronage of their relative Sir Ben- 
jamin Bloomfield. In a parent's panegyric, the gal- 
lant lieutenant was of course all that even hope could 



200 SPEECH IN THE CASE Ol 

picture. Young, gay, heroic, and disinterested, the pride 
of the navy, the prop of the country, independent as the 
gale that wafted, and bounteous as the wave that bore 
him. I am afraid that it is rather an anti-climax to tell 
you after this, that he is the present Plaintiff. The 
eloquence of Mrs. Blake was not exclusively confined to 
her encomiums on the lieutenant. She diverged at times 
into an episode on the matrimonial felicities, painted the 
joy of passion and delights of love, and obscurely hinted 
that Hymen, with his torch, had an exact personifica- 
tion in her son Peter bearing a match-light in His Ma- 
jesty's ship the Hydra ! — While these contrivances were 
practising on Mrs. Wilkins, a bye-plot was got up on 
board the Hydra, and Mr. Blake returned to his mourn- 
ing country, influenced, as he says, by his partiality for 
the Defendant, but in reality compelled by ill health and 
disappointments, added, perhaps, to his mother's very 
absurd and avaricious speculations. What a loss the 
navy had of him, and what a loss he had of the navy ! 
Alas, Gentlemen, he could not resist his affection for a 
female he never saw. Almighty love eclipsed the glo- 
ries of ambition — Trafalgar, and St. Vincent flitted from 
his memory — he gave up all for woman, as Mark An- 
tony did before him, and, like the Cupid in Hudibras, he 



■took his stand 



Upon a Widow's jointure land — 
His tender sigh and trickling tear 
LongM for five hundred pounds a year ; 
And languishing desires were fond 
Of Statute, Mortgage, Bill, and Bond !" 



BLAKE V. WILKINS. gQ 4 

—Oh, Gentlemen, only imagine him on the lakes of 
North America ! Alike to him. the varieties of season 
or the vicissitudes of warfare. One sovereign image 
monopolizes his sensibilities. Does the storm rage ? the 
Widow Wilkins outsighs the whirlwind. Is the Ocean 
calm ? its mirror shows him the lovely Widow Wilkins. 
Is the battle won ? he thins his laurels that the Widow 
Wilkins may interweave her myrtles. Does the broad- 
side thunder ? he invokes the Widow Wilkins ! 

"A sweet little Cherub she sits up aloft 
To keep watch for the life of poor Peter !" 

—Alas, how much he is to be pittied ! How amply he 
should he recompensed ! Who but must mourn his sub- 
lime, disinterested, sweet-souled patriotism ! Who but 
must sympathize with his pure, ardent, generous affec- 
tion ! — affection too confiding to require an interview!—* 
affection too warm to wait even for an introduction! In- 
deed, his Amanda herself seemed to think his love was 
most desirable at a distance, for at the very first visit 
after his return he was refused admittance. His capti- 
vating charmer was then sick and nurse-tended at her 
brother's house, after a winter's confinement, reflecting, 
most likely, rather on her funeral than her wedding. 
Mrs. Blake's avarice instantly took the alarm, and she 
wrote the letter, which I shall now proceed to read to 
you. 

[Mr. Vandeleur. — My Lord, unwilling as I am to 
interupt a statement which seems to create so universal 

Cc 



2Q2 SPEECH IN THE CASE OF 

a sensation, still I hope your Lordship will restrain Mr. 
Phillips from reading a letter which cannot hereafter 
be read in evidence. 

Mr. 0' Conn ell rose for the purpose of supporting 
the propriety of the course pursued by the Defendant's 
Counsel, when] 

M. Phillips resumed — My Lord, although it is ut- 
terly impossible for the Learned Gentleman to say, in 
what manner hereafter this letter might be made evidence, 
still my case is too strong to require any cavilling upon 
such trifles. I am content to save the public time, and wave 
the perusal of the letter. However, they have now given 
its suppression an importance which perhaps its produc- 
tion could not have procured for it. You see Gentlemen, 
what a case they have when they insist on the withhold- 
ing of the documents which originated with themselves. . 
I accede to their very politic interference. 1 grant them, 
since they entreat it, the mercy of my silence. Certain it 
is, however, that a letter was received from Mrs. Blake ; 
and that almost immediately after its receipt, Miss 
Blake intruded herself at Brownville, where Mrs. Wil- 
kins was — remained two days — lamented bitterly her 
not having appeared to the lieutenant, when he called to 
visit her — said that her poor mother had set her heart on 
an alliance — that she was sure dear woman, a disap- 
pointment would be the death of her ; in short, that there 
was no alternative but the tomb or the altar ! To all this 
Mrs. Wilkins only replied, how totally ignorant the par- 
ties most interested were of each other, and that were 



BLAKE V. WILKIXS. ^qq 

she even inclined to connect herself with a stranger 
(poor old fool !) the debts in which her generosity to the 
family had already involved her, formed, at least for the 
present, an insurmountable impediment. This was not 
sufficient. In less than a week, the indefatigable Miss 
Blake returned to the charge, actually armed with an 
old family-bond to pay off the incumbrances, and a re- 
newed representation of the mother's suspense and the 
brother's desperation. You will not fail to observe. 
Gentlemen, that while the female conspirators were thus 
at work, the lover himself had never even seen the object 
of his idolatry. Like the maniac in the farce, he fell in 
love with the picture of his grandmother. Like a prince 
of the blood, he was willing to woo and to be wedded bij 
proxy. For the gratification of his avarice, he was 
contented to embrace age, disease, infirmity, and wi- 
dowhood — to bind his youthful passions to the carcase 
for which the grave was opening — to feed by anticipa- 
tion on the uncold corps and cheat the worm of its re- 
versionary corruption. Educated in a profession pro- 
verbially generous, he offered to bartar every joy for 
money ! Born in a country ardent to a fault, he adver- 
tised his happiness to the highest bidder ! and he now 
solicits an honourable jury to become the panders to this 
heartless cupidity! Thus beset, harrassed, conspired 
against, their miserable victim entered into the con- 
tract you have heard — a contract conceived in meanness, 
extorted by fraud, and sought to be enforced by the most 
profligate conspiracy. Trace it through every stage of 



204 



SPEECH IN THE CASE OF 



its progress, in its origin, its means, its effects — from the 
parent contriving it through the sacrifice of her son, 
and forwarding it through the indelicate instrumental- 
ity of her daughter, down to the son himself unblush- 
ingly acceding to the atrocious combination by which 
age was to be betrayed and youth degraded, and the 
odious union of decrepid lust and precocious avarice 
blasphemously consecrated by the solemnities of Reli- 
gion ! Is this the example which as parents you would 
sanction ? Is this the principle you would adopt your- 
selves ? Have you never witnessed the misery of an un- 
matched marriage? Have you never worshipped the 
bliss by which it has been hallowed, when its torch, 
kindled at affection's altar, gives the noon of life its 
warmth and its lustre, and blesses its evening with a 
more chastened, but not less lovely illumination ? Are 
you prepared to say, that this rite of heaven, revered by 
each country, cherished by each sex, the solemnity of 
every Church and the Sacrament of one, shall be pro- 
faned into the ceremonial of an obscene and soul- de- 
grading avarice ! 

No sooner was this contract, the device of their cove- 
tousness and the evidence of their shame, swindled from 
the wretched object of this conspiracy, than its motive 
became apparent ; they avowed themselves the keepers 
of their melancholy victim; they watched her move- 
ments ; they dictated her actions ; they forbade all inter- 
course with her own brother; they duped her into 
accepting bills, and let her be arrested for the amount. 



BLAKE V. WILKINS. qqq 

They exercised the most cruel and capricious tyranny 
upon her, now menacing her with the publication of her 
follies, and now with the still more horrible enforcement 
of a contract that thus betrayed its anticipated inflic- 
tions ! Can you imagine a more disgusting exhibition of 
how week and how worthless human nature may be, 
than this scene exposes ? On the one hand, a combina- 
tion of sex and age, disregarding the most sacred obliga- 
tions, and trampling on the most tender ties, from a 
mean greediness of lucre, that neither honour or grati- 
tude or nature could appease, i( Lucri bonus est odor ex- 
reqnalibet" On the other hand, the poor shrivelled 
relic of what once was health, and youth, and anima- 
tion, sought to be embraced in its infection, and caressed 
in its infirmity — crawled over and corrupted by the hu- 
man reptiles, before death had shovelled it to the less 
odious and more natural vermin of the grave ! ! What 
an object for the speculations of avarice ! What an an- 
gel for the idolatry of youth ! Gentlemen, when this 
miserable dupe to her own doting vanity and the vice of 
others, saw how she was treated — when she found her- 
self controlled by the mother, beset by the daughter, 
beggared by the father, and held by the son as a kind of 
windfall, that, too rotten to keep its hold, had fallen at 
liis feet to be squeezed and trampled ; when she saw the 
intercourse of her relatives prohibited, the most trifling 
remembrances of her ancient friendship denied, the very 
exercise of her habitual charity denounced ; when she 
saw that all she was worth was to be surrendered to a 



2Q. SPEECH IN THE CASE OF 

family confiscation, and that she was herself to be gib- 
betted in the chains of wedlock, an example to every su- 
perannuated dotai'd, upon whose plunder the ravens of 
the world might calculate, she came to the wisest deter- 
mination of her life, and decided that her fortune should 
remain at her own disposal. Acting upon this decision, 
she wrote to Mr. Blake, complaining of the cruelty with 
which she had been treated, desiring the restoration of 
the contract of winch she had been duped, and declaring, 
as the only means of securing respect, her final determi- 
nation as to the control over her property. To this let- 
ter, addressed to the son, a verbal answer (mark the 
conspiracy) was returned from the mother, withholding 
all consent, unless the property w T as settled on her fa- 
mily, but withholding the contract 'at the same time. 
The wretched old woman could not sustain this conflict* 
She was taken seriously ill, confined for many months in 
her brother's house, from whom she was so cruelly 
sought to be separated, until the debts in which she was 
involved and a recommended change of scene trans- 
ferred her to Dublin. There she was received with the 
utmost kindness by her relative, Mr. Mac Namara, to 
whom she confided the delicacy and distress of her si- 
tuation. That gentleman, acting at once as her agent 
and her friend, intantly repaired to Galway, where he 
had an interview with Mr. Blake. This was long before 
the commencement of any action. A conversation took 
place between them on the subject, winch must, in my 
mind, set the present action at rest altogether; because 



BLAKE V. WILKINS. 



207 



it must show that the non -performance of the contract 
originated entirely with the plaintiff himself. Mr. Mac 
Namara inquired, whether it was not true, that Mr. 
Blake's own family declined any connexion, unless Mrs. 
Wilkins consented to settle on them the entire of her 
property ? Mr. Blake replied it was. Mr. Mac Namara 
rejoined, that her contract did not bind her to any such 
extent. " No/' replied Blake, " I know it does not ; 
however tell Mrs. Wilkins that I understand she has 
about 580/. a year, and I will be content to settle the odd 
80/. on her by way of pocket money " Here, of course, 
the conversation ended, which Mr. Mac Namara de- 
tailed, as he was desired, to Mrs. Wilkins, who rejected 
it with the disdain, which, I hope, it will excite in every 
honourable mind. A topic, however, arose during the 
interview, which unfolds the motives and illustrates the 
mind of Mr. Blake more than any observation which I 
can make on it. As one of the inducements to the pro- 
jected marriage, he actually proposed the prospect of a 
50/. annuity as an officer's widow's pension, to which she 
would be entitled in the event of his decease ! I will not 
stop to remark on the delicacy of this inducement — I 
will not dwell on the ridicule of the anticipation — I will 
not advert to the glaring dotage on which he speculated, 
when he could seriously hold out to a woman of her years 
the prospect of such an improbable survivorship. But I 
do ask you, of w r hat materials must the man be composed 
who could thus debase the national liberality ! What ! was 
the recompense of that lofty heroism which has almost 



208 



SPEECH IN THE CASE OF 



appropriated to the British navy the monopoly of mari- 
time renown — was that grateful offering which a weep- 
ing country pours into the lap ofits patriot's widow, and 
into the cradle of its warrior's orphan — was that gene- 
rous consolation with which a nation's gratitude cheers 
the last moments of her dying hero, by the portraiture 
of his children sustained and ennobled by the legacy of 
his achievements, to be thus deliberately perverted into 
the bribe of a base, reluctant, unnatural prostitution ! 
Oh ! I know of nothing to parallel the self-abasement of 
such a deed, except the audacity that requires an ho- 
nourable Jury to abet it. The following letter from Mr. 
Anthony Martin, Mr. Blake's attorney, unfolded the fu- 
ture plans of this unfeeling conspiracy. Perhaps the 
Gentlemen would wish also to cushion this document ? 
They do not. Then I shall read it. The letter is ad- 
dressed to Mrs. Wilkins. 

"Madam, '« Gahvay, Jan. 9, 18 IT. 

« 4 1 have been applied to professionally by Lieutenant 
Peter Blake to take proceedings against you on rather 
an unpleasant occasion ; but from every letter of your's 
and other documents, together with the material and ir- 
reparable loss Mr. Blake has sustained in his professional 
prospects, by means of your proposals to him, makes it 
indispensably necessary for him to get remuneration 
from you. Under these circumstances, I am obliged to 
say, that I have his directions to take immediate pro- 
ceedings against you, unless he is in some measure com- 
pensated for your breach of contract and promise to 



BLAKE V. WILKiNS. 



209 



hini. I should feel happy that you would save me the 
necessity of acting professionally by settling the busi- 
ness, [You see, Gentlemen, money, money, money, puna 
through the whole amour,] and not suffer it to come to a 
public investigation, particularly, as I conceive from the 
legal advice Mr. Blake has got, together with all I have 
seen, it will ultimately terminate most honourably to Uis 
advantage, and to your pecuniary loss. 

" I have the honour to remain, 
" Madam, 
"Your very humble Servant, 

** Anthony Martix." 

Indeed, I think Mr. Anthony- Martin is mistaken. In- 
deed, I think no twelve men upon their oaths will say 
(even admitting the truth of all he asserts) that it was 
honourable for a British officer to abandon the navy on 
*uch a speculation — to desert so noble a profession — to 
forfeit the ambition it ought to have associated — the rank 
to which it leads — the glory it may confer, for the pur- 
pose of extorting from an old woman he never saw the 
purchase-money of his degradation ! But I rescue the 
Plaintiff from this disgraceful imputation. I cannot believe 
that a member of a profession not less remarkable for 
the valour than the generosity of its spirit — a profes- 
sion as proverbial for its profusion in the harbour as for 
the prodigality of its life-blood on the wave — a profes- 
sion ever willing to fling money to the winds, and only- 
anxious that they should waft through the world its ira- 



2 4 Q SPEECH IN THE CASE OF 

mortal banner crimsoned with the record of a thousand 
victories ! No, no, Gentlemen ; notwithstanding the great 
authority of Mr. Anthony Martin, I cannot readily be- 
lieve that any man could be found to make the high ho- 
nour of this noble service a base, mercenary, sullen pan- 
der to the prostitution of his youth ! The fact is, that in- 
creasing ill health, and the improbability of promotion, 
combined to induce his retirement on half pay. You will 
find this confirmed by the date of bis resignation, 
which was immediately after the battle of Waterloo, 
which settled (no matter how) the destinies of Europe. 
His constitution was declining, his advancement was 
annihilated, and, as a forlorn hope, he bombarded the 
Widow Wilkins ! 

• 4 War thoughts had left their places vacant: 

In their room came, thronging, soft and amorous desires ; 

All telling him how fair — young Hero was." 

He first, Gentlemen, attacked her fortune with herself; 
through the artillery of tiie Church, and having failed 
in that, he now attacks her fortune without her self 9 
through the assistance of the law. However, if I am 
instructed rightly, he has nobody but himself to blame 
for his disappointment. Observe, I do not vouch for the 
authenticity of this fact ; but I do certainly assure you, 
that Mrs. Wilkins was persuaded of it. You know the 
proverbial frailty of our nature. The gallant Lieuteuant 
was not free from it ! Perhaps you imagine that some 
younger, or, according to his taste, some older fair one, 



BLAKE V. WILKINS. 



2(1 



weaned him from the widow. Indeed they did not. He 
had no heart to lose, and yet (can you solve the para- 
dox ?) his infirmity was love. As the Poet says — 

(i LOVE STILL LOVE." 

No, it was not to Venus, it was to Bacchus, he sacri- 
ficed. With an eastern idolatry he commenced at day 
light, and so persevering was his piety till the shades of 
night, that when he was not on his knees, he could 
scarcely be said to be on his legs ! When I came to this 
passage, I could not avoid involuntarily exclaiming, Oh, 
Peter, Peter, whether it he in liquor or in love — 
" None but thyself can be thy parallel !" 

I see by your smiling, Gentlemen, that you correct 
my error. I perceive your classic memories recurring 
to, perhaps, the only prototype to he found in history. 
I beg his pardon. I should not have overlooked 

" the immortal Captain Wattle, 



Who was all for love and — a Utile for the bottle." 

Ardent as our fair ones have been announced to be, 
they do not prefer a flame that is so exclusively spiritual. 
Widow Wilkins, no doubt, did not choose to be singular. 
In the words of the bard, and, my Lord, I perceive you 
excuse my dwelling so much on the authority of the mu- 
ses, because really on this occasion the minstrel seems to 
have combined the powers of poetry with the spirit of 
prophecy — in the very words of the Bard, 



%i% 



SPEECH IN THE CASE OF 



u He asked her, would she marry him Widow Wiikiii* 

answer'd No — * 

Then said he, I'll to the Ocean rock, Pin ready for the 

slaughter, 
Oh! — .I'll shoot at my sad image, as its sighing in the 

water — 
Only think of Widow Wilkins, saving — Go Peter — Go!" 

But, Gentlemen, let us try to be serious, and seriously 
give me leave to ask you, on what grounds does he solicit 
your verdict I is it for Che loss of his profession ? Does 
he deserve compensation if he abandoned it for such a 
purpose — if he deserted at once his duty and his country 
to trepan the weakness of a wealthy dotard ? But did 
he (base as the pretence is,) did he do so ? Is there no- 
thing to cast any suspicion on the pretext ? nothing in 
the aspect of public affairs? in the universal peace ? in 
the uncertainty of being put in commission ? in the 
downright impossibility of advancement ? Nothing to 
make you suspect that he imputes as a contrivance, what 
was the manifest result of an accidental contingency ? 
Does he claim on the ground of sacrificed affection ? Oh, 
Gentlemen only fancy what he has lost — if it were but 
the blessed raptures of the bridal night ! Do not suppose 
I am going to describe it; I shall leave it to the Learned 
Counsel he has selected to compose his epithalamium. 
I shall not exhibit the venerable trembler — at once a relic 
and a relict ; with a grace for every year and acupid in 
every wrinkle — affecting to shrink from the flame of his 
impatience, and fanning it with the ambrosial sigh of 
sixty-five ,' ! I cannot paint the fierce meridian transr- 



BLAKE V. "WlLKlNS. 



213 



ports of the honeymoon, gradually melting into a more 
chastened and permanent affection — every nine months 
adding a link to the chain of their delicate embraces, 
until, too soon, Death's broadside lays the Lieutenant 
low, consoling, however, his patriarchal charmer (old 
enough at the time to be the last wife of MethusalemJ 
with a fifty pound annuity, being the balance -of his glory 
against his Majesty's Ship, the Hydra I ! 

Give me leave to ask you, is this one of the cases, te 
meet which, this very rare and delicate action was in- 
tended ? Is this a case where a reciprocity of circum- 
stances, of affection, or of years, throw even a shade of 
rationality over the contract ? Do not imagine I mean 
to insinuate, that under no circumstances ought such a 
proceeding to be adopted. Do not imagine, though I 
say this action belongs more naturally to a female, its 
adoption can never be justified by one of the other sex. 
Without any great violence to my imagination, I can 
suppose a man in the very spring of life, when his sensi- 
bilities are most acute, and his passions most ardent, 
attaching himself to some object, young, lovely, talented, 
and accomplished, concentrating, as he thought, every 
charm of personal perfection, and in whom those charms 
were only heightened by the modesty that veiled them ; 
perhaps his preference was encouraged ; his affection re- 
turned ; his very sigh echoed until he was conscious of 
his existence but by the soul-creating sympathy — until 
the world seemed but the residence of his love, and that 
lov« the principle that gave it animation — until, before 



214 



SPEECH IN THE CASE OF 



the smile of her afJVction, the whole spectral train of 
sorrow vanished, and this world of wo, with all its cares 
and miseries and crimes, brightened as hy enchantment 
into anticipated paradise ! ! It might happen that this 
divine affection might be crushed, and that heavenly 
vision wither into air at the hell- engendered pestilence 
of parental avarice, leaving youth and health, and worth 
and happiness, a sacrifice to its unnatural and mercenary 
caprices. Far am I from saying, that such a case would 
not call for expiation, particularly where the punish- 
ment fell upon the very vice in which the ruin had ori- 
ginated. Yet even there perhaps an honourable mind 
would rather despise the mean, unmerited desertion. 
Oh, I am sure a sensitive mind would rather droop un- 
complaining into the grave, than solicit the mockery, of 
a worldly compensation! But in the case before you, is 
there the slightest ground for supposing any affection ? 
^— Do you believe, if any accident bereft the Defendant of 
her fortune, that her persecutor would be likely to retain 
his constancy? Do you believe that the marriage thus 
sought to be enforced, was one likely to promote mora- 
lity and virtue ? Do you believe that those delicious 
fruits by which the struggles of social life are sweetened, 
and the anxieties of parental care alleviated, were ever 
once anticipated ? Do you think that such an union 
could exhibit those reciprocities of love and endearments 
hy which this tender rite should be consecrated and 
recommended. Do you not rather believe that it ori- 
ginated in avarice — that it was promoted by conspiracy 



BLAKE V. WILKINS. 



15 



— and that it would not perhaps have lingered through 
some months of crime, and then terminated in a heart- 
less and disgusting abandonment? 

Gentlemen, these are the questions which you will 
discuss in your Jury -room. I am not afraid of your de- 
cision. Remember I ask you for no mitigation of 
damages. Nothing less than your verdict will satisfy 
me. By that verdict you will sustain the dignity of 
your sex — by that verdict you will uphold the honour of 
the national character — by that verdict you will assure, 
not only the immense multitude of both sexes that thus 
so unusually crowds around you, but the whole rising 
generation of your country, That marriage can never 

BE ATTENDED WITH HONOUR OR BLESSED WITH HAPPI- 
NESS, IF IT HAS NOT ITS ORIGIN IN MUTUAL AFFEC- 
TION. I surrender with confidence my case to your 
decision. 

[The damages were laid at 50001. and the Plaintiff's Coun- 
sel were, in the end, contented to withdraw a Juror, and let 
him pay his own Costs.] 



A CHARACTER 



or 



NAFOLEON BUONAPARTE, 



DOWN TO THE PERIOD OF HIS 



JEXILE TO ELBA. 



HE IS TAUDEN ! 

We may now pause before that splendid prodigy, 
which towered amongst us like some ancient ruin, whos* 
frown terrified the glance its magnificence attracted. 

Grand, gloomy, and peculiar, he sat upon the throne, 
a sceptred hermit, wrapt in the solitude of his own ori- 
ginality. 

A mind bold, independent, and decisive — a will, des- 
potic in its dictates — an energy that distanced expedi- 
tion, and a conscience pliable to every touch of interest, 
marked the outline of this extraordinary character — the 
most extraordinary, perhaps,.that, in the annals of this 
world, ever rose, or reigned, or fell. 



CHARACTER OF N. BUONAPARTE. 



117 



Flung into life, in the midst of a Revolution, that 
quickened every energy of a people who acknowledged 
no superior, he commenced his course, a stranger by 
birth, and a scholar by charity ! 

With no friend but his s>^ord, and no fortune but his 
talents, he rushed into th/> lists where rank, and wealth, 
and genius had arrayed tiiemselves, and competition fled 
from him as from tty glance of destiny. He knew no 
motive but interesWhe acknowledged no criterion but 

success he worshipped no God but ambition, and with 

an eastern devotion he knelt at the shrine of his idolatry. 
Subsidiary to tX ls » there was no creed that he did not 
profess, there #as no opinion that he did not promulgate ; 
in the hope $ a, dynasty, he upheld the crescent: for the 
sake of a yivorce, he bowed before the Cross : the orphan 
of St. I/*uis, he became the adopted child of the Repub- 
lic : irftd with a parricidal ingratitude, on the ruins 
botl?of the throne and the tribune, he reared the throne 
ofchis despotism. 

A professed Catholic, he imprisoned the Pope ; a pre- 
tended patriot, he impoverished the country ; and in the 
name of Brutus,* he grasped without remorse, and 
wore without shame, the diadem of the Csesars ! 

Through this pantomime of his policy, fortune played 
the clown to his caprices. At his touch, crowns crum- 
bled, beggars reigned, systems vanished, the wildest 
theories took the colour of his whim, and all that was 



* In his hypocritical cant after Liberty, in the commencement of the 
Revolution, he assumed the name of Brutus Proh Pudor ! 



Ee 



MS 



CHARACTER OF N. BUONAPARTE. 



venerable, and all that was novel, changed places with 
the rapidity of a drama. Even apparent defeat assumed 
the appearance of victory — ins flight from Egypt con- 
firmed his destiny — ruin itself only elevated him to 
empire. 

But if his fortune was great, his genius was transcen- 
dent ; decision flashed upon his councils ; and it was the 
same to decide and to perform. To inferior intellects, 
his combinations appeared perfectly impossible, his 
plans perfectly impracticable ; but U his hands, simpli- 
city marked their development, and siccess vindicated 
their adoption. 

His person partook the character of his mind — if the 
one never yielded in the cabinet, the other *ever bent in 
the field. 

Nature had no obstacles that he did not siiimount — 
space no opposition that he did not spurn ; and vhether 
amid Alpine rocks, Arabian sands, or polar snow*, lie 
seemed proof against peril, and empowered with ini- 
quity ! The whole continent of Europe trembled at be- 
holding the audacity of his designs, and the miracle ol 
their, execution. Scepticism bowed to the prodigies of his 
performance ; romance assumed the air of history ; nor 
was there ought too incredible for belief, or too fanciful 
for expectation, when the world saw a subaltern of Cor- 
sica waving his imperial flag over her most ancient 
capitals. All the visions of antiquity became common 
places in his contemplation ; kings were his people — na- 
tions were his outposts ; and he disposed of courts, and 



CHARACTER OF N. BUONAPARTE. g^g 

crowns, and camps, and churches, and cabinets, as if 
they were the titular dignitaries of the chess-board ! 

Amid all these changes he stood immutable as ada- 
mant. It mattered little whether in the field or the 
drawing-room — with the mob or the levee — wearing the 
jacobin bonnet or the iron crowns-banishing a Bra- 
ganza, or espousing a Hapsbourgh — dictating peace on 
a raft to the czar of Russia, or contemplating defeat at 
the gallows of Lcipsic — he was still the same military 
despot ! 

Cradled in the camp, he was to the last hour the dar- 
ling of the army; and whether in the camp or in the cabi- 
net he never forsook a friend or forgot a favour. Of all 
his soldiers, not one abandoned him, till affection was 
useless, and their first stipulation was for the safety of 
their favorite. 

They knew 7 well that if he was lavish of them, he was 
prodigal of himself; and that if he exposed them to peril, 
he repaid them with plunder. For the soldier, he sub- 
sidized every people ; to the people he made even pride 
pay tribute. The victorious veteran glittered with his 
gains ; and the capital, gorgeous with the spoils of art, 
became the miniature metropolis of the universe. In 
this wonderful combination, his affectation of literature 
must not be omitted. The gaoler of the press, he af- 
fected the patronage of letters— the proscriber of books, 
he encouraged philosophy— the persecutor of authors, 
and the murderer of primers, he yet pretended to the 



g^O CHARACTER OF N. BUONAPARTE. 

protection of learning ! — the assassin of Palm, the si- 
lencer of De Stael, and the denouncer of Kotzebwe, he 
was the friend of David, the benefactor of De Lille, and 
sent his academic prize to the philosopher of England.* 

Such a medley of contradictions, and at the same 
time such an individual consistency, were never united 
in the same character — A Royalist — a Republic and an 
Emperor — a Mehometan — a Catholic and a patron of 
the Synagogue — a Subaltern and a Sovereign — a Trai- 
tor and a Tyrant — a Christian and an Infidel — he was, 
through all his vicissitudes, the same stern, impatient, 
inflexible original — the same mysterious incomprehen- 
sible self — the man without a model, and without a 
shadow. 

His fall, like his life, baffled all speculation. In short, 
his whole history was like a dream to the world, and no 
man can tell how or why he was awakened from the 
reverie. 

Such is a faint and feeble picture of Napoleon Buo- 
naparte, the first (and it is said to be hoped the last) 
Emperor of the French. 

That he has done much evil there is little doubt ; that 
he has been the origin of much good, there is just as 
little. Through his means, intentional or not, Spain, 
Portugal, and France h*ve arisen to the blessing of a 
Free Constitution ; Superstition has found her grave in 

* Sir Humphry Davy was transmitted the first prize of the Academy 
of Sciences. 



CHARACTER OF N. BUONAPARTE. ggj 

I 

the ruins of the Inquisition ;* and the Feudal system, 
with its whole train of tyrannic satellites, has fled for 
ever. Kings may learn from him that their safest study, 
as well as their noblest, is the interest of the people ; the 
people are taught by him that there isr~n$ despotism so 
stupendous against which they have not a resource ; and 
to those who would rise upon the ruins of both, he is a 
living lesson that if ambition can raise them from the 
lowest station, it can also prostrate them from the 
highest. 

* What melancholy reflections does not this sentence awaken ; But 
three years have elapsed since it was written, and in that short spsce 
all the good affected by Napoleon has been erased by the Legitimates, 
and the most questionable parts of his character badly imitated! — His 
successors want nothing but his Genius. 



SPEECH 



OF 

MR. PHILLIPS 

IX 

THE CASE OF BROWNE v. BLAKE: 
FOR CULM COM 

DELIVERED IN DUBLIN, 

ON THE 9th JULY, 1817. 



My Lord and Gentlemen, 

I AM instructed by the plaintiff to lay his case before 
you, and little do I wonder at the great interest which 
it seems to have excited. It is one of those cases which 
come home to the u business and the bosoms" of man- 
kind — it is not confined to the individuals concerned — 
it visits every circle from the highest to the lowest — it 
alarms the very heart of the community, and commands 



SPEECH IN THE CASE OF %%% 

the whole social family to the spot, where human nature 
prostrated at the bar of public justice calls aloud for pity 
and protection ! On my first addressing a jury upon a 
subject of this nature, I took the high ground to which I 
deemed myself entitled— I stood upon the purity of the 
national character— I relied upon that chastity which 
centuries had made proverbial, and almost drowned the 
cry of individual suffering in the violated reputation of 
the country. Humbled and abashed, I must resign the 
topic— indignation at the novelty of the offence has 
given way to horror at the frequency of its repetition — 
it is now becoming almost fashionable amongst us ; we 
are importing the follies, and naturalizing the vices of the 
continent ; scarcely a term passes in these courts, dur- 
ing which some unabashed adulterer or seducer dees not 
announce himself improving on the odiousness of his of- 
fence, by the profligacy of his justification, and as it 
were, struggling to record, by crimes, the desolating 
progress of our barbarous civilization. Gentlemen, if 
this be suffered to continue, what home shall be safe, 
what hearth shall be sacred, what parent can, for a mo- 
ment, calculate on the possession of his child, what child 
shall be secure against the orphanage that springs from 
prostitution; what solitary right, whether of life or of 
liberty, or of property in the land, shall survive 
amongst us, if that hallowed couch which modesty has 
veiled and love endeared and religion consecrated, is to 
be invaded by a vulgar and promiscuous libertinism ! A 
time there was when that couch was inviolable in Ire- 



224 



BROWNE V. BLAKE. 



land — when conjugal infidelity was deemed but an in- 
vention — when marriage was considered as a sacrament 
of the heart and faith and affection sent a mingled flame 
together from the altar ; are such times to dwindle into a 
legend of tradition! are the dearest rights of man, and 
the holiest ordinances of God, no more to be respected ! 
Is the marriage vow to become but the prelude to perjury 
and prostitution ! Shall our enjoyments debase them- 
selves into an adulterous participation, and our children 
propagate an incestuous community ! Hear the case 
whicH I am fated to unfold, and then tell me whether a 
single virtue is yet to linger amongst us with impunity 
—whether honour, friendship or hospitality, are to be 
sacred — whether that endearing confidence by which the 
bitterness of this life is sweetened, is to become the in- 
strument of a perfidy beyond conception ; and whether 
the protection of the roof, the fraternity of the board, 
the obligations of the altar, and the devotion of the heart, 
are to be so many panders to the hellish abominations 
they should have purified — Hear the case which must 
go forth to the world, but which I trust in God your ver- 
dict will accompany, to tell that world, that if there was 
vice enough amongst us to commit the crime, there is 
virtue enough to brand it with an indignant punishment. 
Of the plaintiff, Mr. Browne, it is quite impossible 
but you must have heard much — his misfortune has 
given him a sad celebrity, and it does seem a peculiar 
incident to such misfortune that the loss of happiness is 
almost invariably succeeded by the deprivation of cha- 



SPEECH IN THE CASE OF gg^ 

racter. As the less guilty murderer will bide the corse 
that may lead to bis detection, so does the adulterer, by 
obscuring the reputation of his victim, seek to diminish 
the moral responsibility he has incurred. Mr. Browne 
undoubtedly forms no exception to this system — betrayed 
by his friend, and abandoned by his wife, his too gene- 
rous confidence, his too tender love has been slanderously 
perverted into the sources of his calamity — because he 
could not tyrannise over her whom he adored, he was 
careless — because he could not suspect him in whom he 
trusted, he was careless ; and crime in the infatuation of 
its cunning found its justification even on the virtues of 
its victim ! I am not deterred by the prejudice thus cru- 
elly excited — I appeal from the gossiping credulity of 
scandal to the grave decisions of fathers and of husbands, 
and I implore of you, as you value the blessings of your 
home, not to countenance the calumny which solicits a 
precedent to excuse their spoliation. At the close of the 
year 1809, the death of my client's father gave him the 
inheritance of an ample fortune. Of all the joys his 
prosperity created, there was none but yielded to the 
ecstacy of sharing it with her he loved, the daughter of 
his father's ancient friend, the respectable proprietor of 
Oran castle. She was then in the very spring of life, 
and never did the sun of heaven unfold a lovelier blossom 
— her look was beauty and her breath was fragrance — 
the eye that saw her caught a lustre from the vision ; 
and all the virtues seemed to linger round her, like s@ 
many spotless spirits enamoured of her loveliness. 

Ff 



22Q BROWNE V. BLAKE. 

" Yes, she was good as she was fair, 
None, none on earth above her, 
As pure in thought as angels are, 
To see her, was to love her." 

What years of tongucless transport might not her 
happy husband have anticipated ! What one addition 
could her beauties gain to render them all perfect! In 
the connubial rapture there was only one, and she was 
blessed with it. A lovely family of infant children gave 
her the consecrated name of mother, and with it all that 
heaven can give of interest to this world's worthlessness. 
Can the mind imagine a more delightful vision than that 
of such a mother, thus young, thus lovely, thus beloved, 
blessing a husband's heart, basking in a world's smil? ; 
and while she breathed into her little ones, the moral 
light, showing them that robed in all the light of beauty, 
it was still possible for their virtues to cast it into the 
shade. Year after year of happiness rolled on, and eve- 
ry year but added to their love, a pledge to make it 
happier than the former. Without ambition but her 
husband's love, without one object but her children's 
happiness, this lovely woman, circled in her orbit, all 
bright, all beauteous in the prosperous hour, and if that 
hour e'er darkened, only beaming the brighter and the 
lovelier. What human hand could mar so pure a pic- 
ture ? — What punishment could adequately visit its 
violation ! 

* Oh happy love, where love like this is found ! 
Oh heart felt rapture ! bliss beyond compare !" 



SPEECH IN THE CASE OF 



%%1 



It was indeed the summer of their lives, and with it 
came the swarm of summer friends, that revel in the 
sun-shine of the hour, and vanish with its splendour. 
High and honoured in that crowd — most gay, most che- 
rished, most professing, stood the defendant, Mr. Blake. 
He was the plaintiff's dearest, fondest friend, to every 
pleasure called, in every case consulted, his day's com- 
panion, and his evening guest, his constant, trusted, 
bosom confident, and under guise of all, oh human na- 
ture! he was his fellest, deadliest, final enemy! Here, 
on the authority of this brief do I arraign him, of hav- 
ing wound himself into my client's intimacy — of having 
encouraged that intimacy into friendship, of having 
counterfeited a sympathy in his joys and in his sorrows ; 
and when he seemed too pure even for scepticism itself 
to doubt him, of having under the very sanctity of his 
roof, perpetrated an adultery the most unprecedented 
and perfidious ? If this be true, can the world's wealth 
defray the penalty of such turpitude? Mr. Browne, 
gentlemen, was ignorant of every agricultural pursuit, 
and, unfortunately adopting the advice of his father-in- 
law, he cultivated the amusements of the Curragh. I 
say unfortunately, for his own affairs, and by no means 
in reference to the pursuit itself. It is not for me to 
libel an occupation which the highest, and noblest, and 
most illustrious throughout the empire, countenance by 
their adoption, which fashion and virtue grace by its 
attendance, and in which, peers and legislators and 
princes are not ashamed to appear conspicuous. But if 



228 



BROWNE V BLAKE. 



the morality that countenances it be doubtful , by what 
epithet shall we designate that which would make it an 
apology for the most profligate of offences? Even if 
Mr. Browne's pursuits were ever so erroneous, was it 
fur his bosom friend to take advantage of them to ruin 
him ? On this subject, it is sufficient for me to remark, 
that under circumstances of prosperity or vicissitudes, 
was their connubial happiness ever even remotely cloud- 
ed? In fact, the plaintiff disregarded even the amuse- 
ments that deprived him of her society. He took a 
house for her in the vicinity of Kildare, furnished it with 
all that luxury could require, and afforded her the great- 
est of all luxuries, that of enjoying and enhancing his 
most prodigal affection. From the hour of their mar- 
riage, up to the unfortunate discovery, they lived on 
terms of the utmost tenderness; not a word, except one 
of love ; not an act, except of mutual endearment, passed 
between them. Now, gentlemen, if this be proved to 
you, here I take my stand, and I say, under no earthly 
circumstances, can a justification of the adulterer be 
adduced. No matter with what delinquent sophistry lie 
may blaspheme through its palliation, God ordained, 
nature cemented, happiness consecrated that celestial 
union, and it is complicated treason against God and 
man, and society, to intend its violation. The social 
compact, through every fibre tremhles at its consequen- 
ces ; not only policy but law, not only law, but nature, 
not only nature but religion, deprecate and denounce 
it, — parent and offspring, — youth and age — the dead 



SPEECH IN THE CASE OF ggg 

from the tombs — the child from its cradle, creatures 
scarce alive, and creatures still unborn ; the grandsire 
shivering on the verge of death ; the infant quickening 
in the mother's womb ; all with one assent re-echo God, 
and execrate adultery ! I say, then, where it is once 
proved that husband and wife live together in a state of 
happiness, no contingency on which the sun can shine, 
can warrant any man in attempting their separation. 
Did they do so ? That is imperatively your first consi- 
deration. I only hope that all the hearts religion has 
joined together, may have enjoyed the happiness they 
did. Their married state, was one continued honey- 
moon ; and if ever cloud arose to dim it, before love's 
sigh it tied, and left its orb the brighter. Prosperous 
and wealthy, fortune had no charms for Mr. Browne, 
but as it blessed the object of his affections. She made 
success delightful ; she gave his wealth its value. The 
most splendid equipages — the most costly luxuries, the 
richest retinue- — all that vanity could invent to dazzle — ■ 
all that affection could devise, to gratify, were lier's, and 
thought too vile for her enjoyment. Great as his for- 
tune was, his love out shone it, and it seems as if fortune 
was jealous of the performance. Proverbially caprici- 
ous, she withdrew her smile, and left him shorn almost 
of every thing except his love, and the fidelity that 
crowned it. 

The hour of adversity is woman's hour — in the full 
blaze of fortune's rich meridian, her modest beam 
retires from vulgar notice, but when the clouds of wo 



230 



BROWNE V. BLAKE 



collect around us, and shades and darkness dim the 
wanderer's path, that chaste and lovely light shines 
forth to cheer him, an emblem and an emanation of the 
heavens! — It was then her love, her value, and her pow- 
er was visible. No, it is not for the cheerfulness with 
which she bore the change i prize her — it is not that 
without a sigh she surrendered all the baubles of prospe- 
rity — bu' that she pillowed her poor husband's heart, 
welcomed adversity to make him happy, held up her 
little children as the wealth that no adversity could take 
away; and when she found his spirit broken and his 
soul dejected, with a more than masculine understand- 
ing, retrieved, in some degree, his desperate fortunes, 
and saved the little wreck that solaced their retirement. 
What was such a woman worth, I ask you ? If you can 
stoop to estimate by dross the worth of such a creature, 
give me even a notary's calculation, and tell me then 
what was she worth to him to whom she had consecrat- 
ed the bloom of her youth, the charm of her innocence, 
the splendour of her beauty, the wealth of her tender- 
ness, the power of her genius, the treasure of her fidel- 
ity ? She, the mother of his children, the pulse of his 
heart, the joy of his prosperity, the solace of his misfor- 
tunes — what was she worth to him ? Fallen as she is, 
you may still estimate her ; you may see her value even 
in her ruin. The gem is sullied the diamond is shiver- 
ed ; but even in its dust you may see the magnificence 
of its material. After this, they retired to Rockville, 
their seat in the country of Galway, where they resided 



SPEECH IN THE CASE OF 



231 



in the most domestic manner, on the remnant of their 
once splendid establishment. The butterflies, that in 
their noon tide fluttered round them, vanished at the 
first breath of their adversity; but one early friend still 
remained faithful and affectionate, and that was the de- 
fendant. Mr. Blake is a young gentleman of about 
eight and twenty ; of splendid fortune, polished in his 
manners, interesting injhis appearance, with ! ny qual- 
ities to attach a friend, and every quality to fascinate a 
female. Most willingly do I pay the tribute which na- 
ture claims for him; most bitterly do I lament that he 
has been so ungrateful to so prodigal a benefactress. 
The more Mr. Browne's fortunes accumulated, the more 
disinterestedly attached did Mr. Blake appear to him. 
He shared with him his purse, he assisted him with his 
counsel; in an affair of honour he placed his life and 
character in his hands — he introduced his innocent sis- 
ter, just arrived from an English Nunnery, into the 
family of his friend — he encouraged every reciprocity of 
intercourse between the females ; and, to crown all, that 
no possible suspicion might attach to him, he seldom 
travelled without his Domestic Chaplain ! Now, if it 
shall appear that all this was only a screen for his adul- 
tery — that he took advantage of his friend's misfortune 
to seduce the wife of his bosom — that he affected confi- 
dence only to betray it — that he perfected the wretched- 
ness he pretended to console, and that in the midst of 
poverty he has left his victim, friendless, hopeless, com- 
panionless j a husband without a wife and a father with- 



%%% 



BROWNE V. BLAKE. 



out a child. Gracious God ! is it not enough to turn 
Mercy herself into an executioner ! You convict for 
murder — here is the hand that murdered innocence ! 
You convict for treason — here is the vilest disloyalty to 
friendship! — You convict for rohhery — here is one who 
plundered virtue of her dearest pearl, and dissolved it — » 
even in the howl that hospitality held out to him ! ! They 
pretend that he is innocent ! Oh effrontery the most 
unblushing ! Oh vilest insult, added to the deadliest 
injury ! Oh base, detestable, and damnable hypocrisy ! 
Of the final testimony it is true enough their cunning 
has deprived us ; but under Providence, I shall pour 
upon this baseness such a flood of light, that I will defy, 
not the most honourable man merely, but the most cha- 
ritable sceptic, to touch the Holy Evangelists, and say, 
by their sanctity, it has not been committed. Attend 
upon me, now, Gentlemen, step by step, and with me 
rejoice, that, no matter how cautious may be the conspi- 
racies of guilt, there is a Power above to confound and 
to discover them. 

On the 27th of last January, Mary Hines, one of the 
domestics, received directions from Mrs. Browne, to 
have breakfast ready very early on the ensuing morning, 
as the defendant, then on a visit at the house, expressed 
an inclination to go out to hunt. She was accordingly 
brushing down the stairs at a very early hour, when she 
observed the handle of the door stir, and fearing the 
noise had disturbed her, she ran hastily down stairs to 
avoid her displeasure. She remained below about three 



SPEECH IN THE CASE OF ggg 

quarters of an hour, when her master's bell ringing vio- 
lently she hastened to answer it. He asked her in some 
alarm where her mistress was? naturally enough asto- 
nished at such a question at such an hour, she said she 
knew not, but would go down and see whether or not 
she was in the parlour. Mr. Browne, however, had 
good reason to be alarmed, for she was so extremely 
indisposed going to bed at night that an express stood 
actually prepared to bring medical aid from Galway, 
unless she appeared better. An unusual depression both 
of mind and body preyed upon Mrs. Browne on the pre- 
ceding evening. She frequently burst into tears, threw 
her arms around her husband's neck, saying that she 
was sure another month would seperate her for ever 
from him and her dear children. It was no accidental 
omen. Too surely the warning of Providence was upon 
her. When the maid was going down, Mr. Blake ap- 
peared at his door totally undressed, and in a tone of 
much confusion desired that his servant should be sent 
up to him. She went down — as she was about to return 
from her ineffectual search, she heard her master's voice 
in the most violent indignation, and almost immediately 
alter Mrs. Browne rushed past her into the parlour, and 
hastily seizing her writing desk, desired her instantly 
to quit the apartment. Gentlemen. I request you will 
bear every syllable of this scene in your recollection, 
but most particularly the anxiety about the writing desk. 
You will soon find that there was a cogent reason for it. 
Little was the wonder that Mr. Browne's tone shoidd 

Gg 



234 



BROWNE V. BLAKE. 



be that of violence and indignation. He had discovered 
his wife and friend totally undressed, just as they had 
escaped from the guilty bed-side where they stood in all 
the shame and horror of their situation ! He shouted 
for her brother, and that miserable brother had the ago- 
ny of witnessing; his guilty sister in the hed room of her 
paramour, both almost literally in a state of nudity. 
Blake ! Blake ! exclaimed the heart struck hushand, is 
this the return you have made for my hospitality ? Oh, 
heavens ! what a reproach was there ! It was not mere- 
ly, you have dishonoured my hed — it was not merely, 
you have sacrificed my happiness— it was not merely, you 
have widowed me in my youth, and left me the father of 
an orphan family — it was not merely, you have violated 
a compact to which all the world swore a tacit veneration 
— but, you — you have done it, my friend, my guest, un- 
der the very roof barbarians reverence ; where you 
enjoyed my table, where you pledged my happiness ; 
where you saw her in all the loveliness of her virtue, 
and at the very hour when our little helpless children 
were wrapt in that repose of which you have for ever 
robbed their miserable parents ! I do confess when I 
paused here in the perusal of these instructions, the very 
life blood froze within my veins. What, said I, must I 
not only reveal this guilt ! must I not only expose this 
perfidy! must I not only brand the infidelity of a wife 
and a mother, but must I, amidst the agonies of outraged 
nature, make the brother the proof of the sister's pros- 
titution ! Thank God, gentlemen, I may not be obliged 



SPEECH IN THE CASE OF 



235 



to tortue you and him and myself, hy such instrumental- 
ity. I think the proof is full without it, though it must 
add another pang to the soul of the poor plaintiff, be- 
cause it must render it almost impossible that his little 
infants are not the brood of this adulterous depravity. 
It will be distinctly proved to you by Honoria Brennan, 
another of the servants, that one night, so far back as 
the May previous to the last mentioned occurrence, when 
she was in the act of arranging the beds, she saw Mr. 
Blake come up stairs, look cautiously about him, go to 
Mrs. Brown's bed-room door, and tap at it; that imme- 
diately after Mrs. Browne went, with no other covering 
than her shift, to Mr. Blake's bed-chamber, where the 
guilty parties locked themselves up together. Terrified 
and astonished, the maid retired to the servant's apart- 
ments and in about a quarter of an hour after she saw 
Mrs. Browne in the same habiliments return from the bed 
room of Blake into her husband's. Gentlemen, it was 
by one of those accidents which so often accompany and 
occasion the development of guilt, that we have arrived 
at this evidence. It was very natural that she did not 
wish to reveal it ; very natural that she did not wish 
either to expose her mistress, or afflict her unconscious 
master with the recital ; very natural that she did not 
desire to be the instrument of so frightful a discovery. 
However, when she found that concealment was out of 
the question ; that this action was actually in progress, 
and that the guilty delinquent was publicly triumphing 
in the absence of proof, and through an herd of slande- 



236 



BROWNE V. BLAKE 



rous dependents, cruelly villifying the character'of his 
victim ; she sent a friend to Mr. Browne, and in his pre- 
sence, and that of two others, solemnly discovered her 
melancholy information. Gentlemen, I do entreat of 
you to examine this woman, though she is an uneducated 
peasant, with all severity, because, if she speaks the 
truth, I think you will agree with me, that so horrible a 
complication of iniquity never disgraced the annals of a 
court of justice. He had just risen from the table of his 
friend — he left his own brother and that friend behind 
him, and even from the very board of his hospitality, lie 
proceeded to the defilement of his bed ! Of mere adul- 
tery I had heard before. It was bad enough — a breach 
of all law, religion and morality — but — what shall I call 
this ? — that seduced innocence — insulted misfortune — 
betrayed friendship — violated hospitality — tore up the 
very foundations of human nature, and hurried its frag- 
ments at the violated altar, as if to bury religion beneath 
the ruins of society ! Oh, it is guilt might put a Daemon 
to the blush ! 

Does our proof rest here! No; though the mind 
must be sceptical that after this could doubt. A guil- 
ty correspondence was carried on between the par- 
ties, and though its contents were destroyed by Mrs. 
Browne, on the morning of the discovery, still we shall 
authenticate the fviet beyond suspicion. You shall hear 
it from the very messenger they entrusted — you shall 
hear from him too, that the wife and the adulterer both 
bound him to the utmost secrecy, at once establishing 



SPEECH IN THE CASE OF 



237 



their own collusion and their victims ignorance, proving 
by the very anxiety for concealment, the impossibility 
of connivance ; so true it is that the conviction of guilt 
will often proceed even from the stratagem for its secu- 
rity. Does our proof rest here ? No ; you shall have 
it from a gentleman of unimpeachable veracity, that the 
defendant himself confessed the discovery in his bed 
room — c< I will save him," said he, " the trouble of prov- 
ing it; she was in her shift, and I was in my shirt. I 
know very well a jury will award damages against me; 
ask Browne will he agree to compromise it ; he owes 
me some money, and I will give him the overplus in 
horses \" Can you imagine any thing more abominable. 
He seduced from his friend the idol of his soul, and the 
mother of his children, and when he was writhing under 
the recent wound, he deliberately offers him brutes in 
compensation ! I will not depreciate this cruelty by any 
comment ; yet the very brute he would barter for that 
unnatural mother, would have lost its life rather than 
desert its offspring. Now, Gentlemen, what rational 
mind but must spurn the asservation of innocence after 
this ! Why the anxiety about the writing desk ? Why 
a clandestine correspondence with her husband's friend ? 
Why remain, at two different periods, for a quarter of an 
hour together, in a gentleman's bed-chamber, with no 
other habiliment, at one time, than her bed-dress, at ano- 
ther than her shift. Is this customary with the married 
females of this country ? Is this to be a precedent for 
our wives and daughters, sanctioned too by you, their 



238 



BROWNE V. BLAKE. 



parents and their husbands ? Why did he confess that 
a verdict for damages must go against him, and make 
the offer of that unfeeling compromise ? — Was it because 
he was innocent ? The very offer was a judgmentby de- 
fault, a distinct, undeniable corroboration of his guilt. 
Was it that the female character should not suffer ? 
Could there he a more trumpet-tongued proclamation of 
her criminality ! Are our witnesses suborned ? Let 
his army of Council sift and tortue them. Can they 
prove it? yes, if it be proveable. Let them produce 
her brother — in our hands, a damning proof to be sure ; 
but then, frightful, afflicting, unnatural — in theirs, the 
most consolatory and delightful, the vindication of 
calumniated innocence, and that innocence the innocence 
of a sister. Such is the leading outline of our evidence 
— evidence which you will only wonder is so convincing 
in a case whose very nature presupposes the most cau- 
tious secrecy. The law, indeed, gentlemen, duly esti- 
mating the difficulty of final proof in this species of 
action has recognized the validity of inferential evidence 
but on that subject his Lordship must direct you. 

Do they rely then on the ground of innoceney ! If 
they do, I submit to you on the authority of the law, that 
inferential evidence is quite sufficient; and on the autho- 
rity of reason, that in this particular case, the inferen- 
tial testimony amounts to demonstration. Amongst the 
innumerable calumnies afloat, it has been hinted to me 
indeed, that they mean to rely upon what they denomi- 
nate the indiscretion of the husband. — The moment they 



SPEECH IN THE CASE OF 



239 



have the hardihood to resort to that, they, of course, 
abandon all denial of delinquency, and even were it 
fully proved, it is then worth your most serious conside- 
ration, whether you will tolerate such a defence as that. 
It is in my mind beyond all endurance, that any man 
should dare to come into a Court of Justice, and on the 
shadowy pretence of what he may term carelessness, 
ground the most substantial and irreparable injury. 
Against the unmanly principle of conjugal severity, in 
the name of civilized society I solemnly protest. It is 
not fitted for the meridian, and, I hope, will never amal- 
gamate itself with the manners of this country — It is the 
most ungenerous and insulting suspicion, reduced into 
the most unmanly and despotic practice. 

" Let barbarous nations whose inhuman love 
Is wild desire, fierce as the suns they fell ; 
Let Eastern tyrants, from the light of heaven 
Seclude their bosom slaves, meanly possessed 
Of a mere lifeless violated form — 
While those whom love cements in holy faith 
And equal transport, free as nature live, 
Disdaining fear." 

But once establish the principle of this moral and do- 
mestic censorship, and then tell me where is it to begin ? 
Where is it to end ? Who shall bound ? Who shall preface 
it ? By what hitherto undiscoverable standard, shall we 
regulate the shades between solemnity and levity ? Will 
you permit this impudent espionage upon your house- 
holds ; upon the hallowed privacy of your domestic 



2^q BROWN V. BLAKE. 

hours; and for what purpose? Why, that the seducer 
and the adulterer may calculate the security of his cold- 
blooded libertinism ! — that he may steal like an assassin 
upon your hours of relaxation, and convert perhaps your 
confidence into the instrument of your ruin ! If this be 
once permitted as a ground of justification, we may bid 
farewell at once to all the delightful intercourse of social 
life. Spurning as I do at this odious system of orga- 
nized distrust, suppose the admission made, that my 
client was careless, indiscreet, culpable, if they will, in his 
domestic regulations, is it therefore to be endured, that 
every abandoned burglar should seduce his wife, or 
violate his daughter? Is it to be endured, tha£»Mr. Blake 
of all men should rely on such an infamous ]%nd conve- 
nient extenuation ! He — his friend^^s gues^ his con- 
fidant, he who introduced a spotless sister to this at- 
tainted intimacy ; shall he say, I associated with you 
hourly, I affected your familiarity for many years. I 
accompanied my domesticated minister of religion to 
your family ; I almost naturalized the nearest female re- 
lative I had on earth, unsullied and unmarried as she Was 
within your household : but — you fool — it was only to 
turn it into a brothel ! ! Merciful God, will you endure 
him when he tells you thus, that he is on the watch to 
prowl upon the weakness of humanity, and audaciously 
solicits your charter for such libertinism I 

I have heard it asserted also, that they mean to arraign 
the husband as a conspirator, because in the hour of con- 
fidence and misfortune he accepted a proffered pecuniary 



SPEECH IN THE CASE OF 



241 



assistance from the man he thought his friend. It is true 
he did so; hut so, I will say, criminally careful was he 
of his interests that he gave him his hond, and made him 
enter up judgment on that hond, and made him issue an 
execution on that judgment, ready to be levied in a day, 
that in the wreck of all, the friend of his bosom should he 
at least indemnified. It was my impression indeed, that 
under a lease of this nature, amongst honourable men, 
so from any unwarrantable privilege created, there was 
rather a peculiar delicary incumbent on the donor. I 
should have thought so still, but for a frightful expression 
of one of the Counsel on the motion, by which they en- 
deavoured' not to trust a Dublin Jury with this issue. — 
^Vhat, exclaimed they, in all the pride of their execrable 
instructions, "poor plaintiff and a rich defendant! Is 
there noting in that V 9 No, if my client's shape does not 
belie his species, there is nothing in that. I braved the 
assertion as a calumny on human nature — I call on you, 
if such an allegation be repeated, to visit it with vindic- 
tive and overwhelming damages? I would appeal, not to 
f this civilized assembly, but to a horde of savages, whe- 
ther it is possible for the most inhuman monster thus to 
sacrifice to infamy, his character — his wife — his home— 
his children ! In the name of possibility, I deny it ; in 
the name of humanity, I denounce it; in the name of our 
common country, and our common nature, I implore of 
the Lenrned Counsel not to promulgate such a slander 
upon both — but I need not do so ; if the seal of advocacy 
should induce them to the attempt memory would array 

Hh 



«4£ 



BROWN V. BLAKE. 



their happy homes before them — their little children would 
lisp its contradiction — their love — their hearts — their 
instinctive feelings as fathers and as husbands, would 
rebel within them, and whither up the horrid blasphemy 
upon their lips. 

Tiiey will find it difficult to palliate such turpitude — I 
am sure I find it difficult to aggravate. — It is in itself a 
hyperbole of wickedness. Honour, innocence, religion, 
friendship — all that is sanctified or lovely, or endearing 
in creation. — Even that hallowed, social, shall I not say 
indigenous virtue — that blessed hospitality — which fo- 
reign envy could not deny, or foreign robbery despoil — 
which, when all else had perished, cast a bloom on our 
desolation, flinging its rich foliiage over the national ruin, 
as if to hide the monument, while it gave a shelter to the 
mourner — even that withered away before that pesti- 
lence! But what d > I say ! was virtue merely the victim 
of this adulterer ? Worse, worse — it was his instrument — 
even on the broken tablet of the. decalogue did he whet the 
dagger for his social assassination — What will you say, 
when I inform you, that a few months before, he went deli- 
berately to the baptismal font with the waters of life to 
regenerate the infant that, too well could he avouch it, 
had been born in sin, and he promised to teach it Chris- 
tianity ! And he promised to guard it against " the flesh!" 
And lest infinite mercy should overlook the sins of its 
adulterous father, seeking to make his God his pander, 
he tried to damn it even with the Sacrament ! ! — See then 
the horrible atrocity of this case as it touches the defen- 



SPEECH IN THE CASE OF g^g 

dant— but. how can you count its miseries as attaching 
to the plaintiff! He has suffered a pang the most agoniz- 
ing to human sensibility — it has been inflicted by his 
friend, and inflicted beneath his roof — it commences at a 
period which casts a doubt on the legitimacy of his chil- 
dren, and to crown all, "upon him a son is born" even 
since the separation, upon whom every shilling of his es- 
tates lias entailed by settlement? What compensation can 
reprise so unparalleled a sufferer! What solitary conso- 
lation is there in reserve for him ! Is it love ? Alas there 
was one whom he adored with all the heart's idolatry, and 
she deserted him. Is it friendship ? There was one of all 
the world whom he trusted, and that one betrayed him. 
Is it society ? The smile of others' happiness appears 
but the epitaph of his own. Is it solitude ? Can he be alone 
while memory striking on the sepulchre of his heart, 
calls into existence the spectres of the past. Shall he fly 
for refuge to his " sacred home !" Every object there is 
eloquent of his ruin ! Shall he seek a mournful solace in 
his children ? Oh, he has no children — there is the little 
favourite that she nursed, a»d there — there — even on its 
guileless features — there is the horrid smile of _ the adul- 
terer ! ' 

O Gentlemen, am I this day only the Counsel of my 
client ! no — no — I am the advocate of humanity — of your- 
selves — your homes — your wives — your families — your 
little children ; I am glad that this case exhibits such 
atrocity ; unmarked as it is by any mitigatory feature, it 
may stop the frightful advance of this calamity; it will 
>e met now and marked with vengeance ; if it be not, 



J £ r / 7 3 



g^ BROWNE V BLAKE. , 

farewell to the virtues of your country ; farewell to all 
confidence between man and man ; farewell to that un- 
suspicious and reciprocal tenderness, without which 
marriage is hut a consecrated curse ; if oaths are to be 
violated ; laws disregarded ; friendship betrayed ; huma- 
nity trampled ; national and individual honour stained; 
and that a jury of fathers, and of husbands will give such 
miscreancy a passport to their homes, and wives and 
daughters ; farewell to all that yet remains of Ireland ! 
But I will not cast such a doubt upon the character of 
my country. Against the sneer of the foe, and the scep- 
ticism of the foreigner, I will still point to the domestic 
virtues, that no perfidy could barter, and no bribery can 
purchase, that with a Roman usage, at once embellish 
and consecrate households, giving to the society of the 
hearth all the purity of the altar ; that lingering alike 
in the palace and the cottage, are still to be found scat- 
tered over this land 5 the relic of what she was ; the 
source perhaps of what she maybe ; the lone, and stately, 
and magnificent memorials, that* rearing their majesty 
amid surrounding ruins, serve at once as the land marks 

of the departed glory, and the models by which the fu- 
ture may be erected. 

Preserve those virtues with a vestal fidelity ; mark 
this day, by your verdict, your horror at their profana- 
tion, and believe me, when the hand which records that 
verdict shall be dust, and the tongue that asks it, trace- 
Jess in the grave, many a happy home will bless its 
consequences, and many a mother teach her little child 
to hate the impious treason of adultery. 

THE END. 



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